The Saarebas
by Kyndred.Raven
Summary: [CH8 UP!] To the Qunari, she was Basalit-an, or Saarebas - a creature to be feared and respected. As the their uprising takes a dangerous turn, Hawke must make a decision that will change her life forever. Submit to the Qun or face the end of Kirkwall. When she makes the ultimate sacrifice for those she loves, it is up to them to save her. [Fenris/F!Hawke/Anders]
1. Chapter 1

**Spoilers ahead, so please be warned.**

**A/N:**

In preparation for Inquisition, I decided to revisit the first and second Dragon Age.

This story is my rendition of the major events that happened in Act II and onwards, filling in some time gaps. It is not merely a rehash of things we've already seen in the game, however. "The Saarebas" is a different take on what happened in the First Battle of Kirkwall. Because the events have been altered, the time line may be a little shifted and Act III will be heavily modified.

After the game, I found myself asking questions. Namely, this was my first time playing a mage in DA2, and I was surprised that - although people did react to the fact that Hawke was using magic - there wasn't enough drama with it. I kept thinking, she's an apostate! A mage with her power rivals Orsino, yet nobody _really_ seems to care. Plus, I was disappointed with the way the Qunari arc ended. So, I decided to write this.

This story is a companion story to "Chronicles of the Fateshapers" - a story about the Hero of Ferelden and her saga. Characters from all of these stories will be appearing and all plot events related here and there are interconnected. My intention is to pull the stories of Hawke and the Warden together and tie them into what will happen in Inquisition.

Please let me know what you guys think :)

**Full Summary:**

To the Qunari, she was Basalit-an, or Saarebas - a creature to be feared and respected in the same breath. As the their uprising takes a dangerous turn, Hawke must make a decision that will change her life forever. Submit to the Qun or face the end of Kirkwall. Fight and win freedom for the city or face defeat and lose everything she is. When she makes the ultimate sacrifice for those she loves, it is up to them to save her. [Fenris/F!Hawke/Anders]

**Warning: **Rated M for violence, language, and mature themes.

**Disclaimer: **Characters do not belong to me. Dragon Age is owned by Bioware. Cover image for the story belongs to Deviant Art artist Rossilyn (amazing artist!).

* * *

**The Saarebas**

**Chapter 1**

* * *

Body by mangled body, Cassara Hawke carved, burned, and tore a path to the Keep through the streets of Kirkwall. The flood of Qunari seemed endless. Like tall, grey, blood-soaked waves they rushed to meet her, to stop her, crashing again and again against walls of resistance. A journey that should have taken less than an hour felt as though it lasted an eternity. Hawke was no stranger to battle – no newcomer to the haze of fear and adrenaline that pumped through her veins. Whether the enemy was something as terrifying as a Darkpawn Ogre or as plain as a Coterie thug, she'd never lost control of her emotions. Always, the Maker helped her keep her wits, helped her prioritize one thing above all else – survival.

There came a point when she stopped seeing their faces – when all she could make out was a wall of bodies prioritized by the threat they posed to her and her companions. Hawke glanced between her friends, taking note of Anders' exhausted stance, the bloody cut on Merrill's leg, the rivulets of sweat dripping down Fenris' skin. Smoke streamed all around; flames devoured the city she had come to call home. And not just. The fire of Qunari anger consumed innocents as well. She heard their screams, there, in the back of her mind where she did not dare to tread for fear of losing her focus.

Just when the last Ashaad fell before them, a new wave appeared. From the corner of her eye, she saw Anders down a blue potion. Lyrium – something she felt she needed badly. Between maintaining an arcane shield around herself to ward off Qunari arrows and summoning maelstrom after maelstrom of fireballs and lightning storms, Hawke felt her reserves depleting quickly. Gathering her will, she purged all thoughts of possible failure from her mind. Now was not the time. Later, she could dwell on negativity. Right now, they all had to make it through this in one piece.

"_Katara, bas!_" one of the Ashaad shouted, aiming a spear directly for Merrill. Too preoccupied with casting another spell, the elf was completely unaware of the danger. Narrowing her eyes, Hawke used her magic to pull on the stones beneath her feet. In a split second, she gathered a mass of rocks and hurled it with all of her strength at the assailant. Too late. The spear went flying. With her free hand, she reached out and sent a wave of force at Merrill, knocking her off her feet and out of the way of the spear's trajectory. The elf cried out in panic, but Hawke reasoned that a small bump on the head would be better than a Qunari spear in the gut. Immediately, the other Ashaad turned to face her, identifying her as the new threat.

To them, she was Saarebas – one of the most hated and dangerous beings they could face. Though she wasn't alone. One by one, she saw them take note of Anders and Merrill. Not good. If Anders went down, they would lose their healing magic. Should Merrill be incapacitated, they could lose the benefits of her entropy spells – the only thing that helped them against much stronger opponents. Not to mention, she still hadn't mastered stone armor, making her the most vulnerable target of them all. Briefly, her gaze flickered to Fenris.

The elf glowed with power, blood-lust, and rage. Hawke didn't understand it, but at times he seemed to know exactly what she needed him to do. Using his unnatural strength, he ripped through enemies twice his size as easily as a blade through silk. The moment he saw the Qunari look in Merrill's direction, he let out a howl that chilled even Hawke. The Ashaad looked intimidated. They hesitated for a moment before a larger figure stepped out from behind them. Hawke swore under her breath. A Sten. As Fenris engaged the lower ranking soldiers, the Sten lifted an enormous greatsword in the air and shouted something else in Qunlat. Those fighting Fenris seemed bolstered. In her peripherals, Hawke saw Merrill finally get to her feet.

"Anders, protect Merrill," Hawke barked out, her attention now completely narrowed on the Sten. She glanced at the elven blood mage; they shared a nod of understanding as she began to cast a hex of torment. Cassara looked back towards Fenris. The elf was a spot of bright blue as he whirled in repeated circles, slicing at the Qunari in a vicious whirlwind. The move was high risk, high reward. Should the Qunari not succumb to the damage from his strikes, he would be left vulnerable afterwards. No hesitations, then.

Hawke lifted her staff into the air and rammed it down into the ground, wedging it in a crack her earlier stone fist had formed when she'd torn it from the earth. Both hands now free to wreak havoc, she took a deep breath, set her legs wide apart, and drew on strings of magic around her. Using nothing but physical and elemental force, she focused on balling the energy together. Visualizing it as a bottled hurricane, she lifted her arms and dropped them down on top of the Qunari surrounding Fenris. Her muscles screamed with the effort, but she watched with satisfaction as the group of six warriors were hurled like rag dolls away from her comrade. As it turned out, her intuition had been right on target. Fenris, immune to the blast thanks to Hawke's precise control, sank to the ground. He leaned on his weapon, breathing coming in strained bursts. Convinced that he was safe for the moment and could recuperate with a stamina draught, Hawke clenched her jaw and gathered more force between her palms.

The Sten roared, furious at those under his command. His eyes locked with her own. Just like the others, he knew what she was now. Though she'd given Fenris a reprieve, she'd made herself the prime target. _Better make it count_ – her mind whispered. At that moment, Merrill finished casting her hex. It flew towards the Sten, hitting him directly in his vulnerable side. Though he staggered, he seemed to shake off the effects. No matter. It was all the pause that Hawke needed. This time, she visualized the power in her hands as a landslide – an avalanche bearing all of nature's wrath and power. She positioned the force above the Sten and released, pulling back with her arms in an angular motion. In a flash of white, the warrior was lifted in the air then slammed face-first into the stone beneath him. A _crack_ echoed through the courtyard.

"Now, Fenris!" she commanded. He said nothing in response. Simply obeyed. With a precision that she'd only seen Fenris display with a greatsword the size of the one he wielded, the elf rushed forward. His form became a glowing blur as he rammed into the Sten at full charge then scissored upwards with the blade in his hands. The air screeched, howling as the force from Fenris's attack met with Hawke's magic. The Qunari wasn't just thrown – he was obliterated. Hawke's spell had stripped all armor and defenses from him, leaving him as fragile as egg shells. The elf's upwards psythe made sure to exploit that, ripping him apart from within.

Satisfied that their enemy was defeated, Hawke sank to one knee. Exhaustion hit her with the mercy and lenience of a concrete wall. She was still new to Force magic and had been struggling to master it for months. Fighting dizziness, the mage stood and gripped her staff, feeling its enchantments grant her some strength. Not now. Now was not the time to fall apart. Driving back the protests of her mind and body with sheer will, she looked around to determine their location. At least that battle hadn't taken them off track from their goal. They were nearly at the Keep. Anders dashed over to her, examining her with a critical eye.

"Are you alright?" he asked. Had the situation not been so dire, she would have felt soothed by his gentle voice. As it was, all she could focus on was keeping a cool head on her shoulders and leading her friends to safety. She cut him off when he began to say something else, directing his attention to the stairway that lead to the entrance of the Qunaris' new base of operations in Hightown. Anders hissed when he saw more warriors stream out from the top of the stairs. Both of them tensed. She saw Fenris lower himself into a battle-ready stance. Leading from the back was a Qunari mage, unchained.

"Anders, take my lyrium draughts." He started to protest, but she shook her head. "You are the only one with healing magic. If either of us goes down, we will need you to bring us up." Unwilling to listen to any protests against this logic, she tore one of the pouches off her belt. "Take it and stay as far back from that mage as you can." Merrill hurried over to them.

"What should I do, _lethallan_?" she murmured, eyes brimming with determination.

"Merrill, the moment they swarm together, start casting your tempest and chain lightning. Make sure you wait until they are close together." The elf nodded. "The four of us will have to stay far apart, but make sure you are in range of Anders' healing."

"I know some healing," Merrill cut in.

"No. Reserve your strength for taking down those warriors. After you've cast the big spells, try to slow the mage. But, don't make him your first priority." Hawke stepped forward. "That one is mine."

At last, she met Fenris' heavy stare. They shared a look and, magically, he once again seemed to know exactly what needed to be done. Hawke's thoughts strained against her self-control, tempting her to think back to the night after Hadriana's death. They hadn't spoken much since then, not since they'd exchanged heated words and he'd stormed out of her estate. Weeks had flown by like months without a word from him. Yet, when the Qunari crisis began, she'd opened her door to find him as one of the first of her friends that insisted he would not leave her side. Just for a moment, she allowed her heart to throb with pain and longing for him. After so many years fighting side by side, her love for him still seemed entirely one-sided.

_Now is not the time, Hawke_ – her instinct warned. And how right it was, for at that moment she saw two more Stens filling down after the Qunari mage.

* * *

The battle was not going in their favor. The more Qunari they cut down, the more seemed to stream and crawl out of every crack in the ground. Twice now, Anders had been forced to use his strongest healing spell to keep them going – a task which left him drained and vulnerable. As Hawke saw him down another lyrium draught, she was glad she'd given him her entire belt pouch. The ground was littered with bodies – some torn apart by metal, some crushed, and others charred husks thanks to Hawke's flames.

In the end, she'd fallen back on using fire and ice as they drained her reserves a little less. Though she knew not what was keeping her upright any more. She'd gone past the danger point some time ago – the point when darkness began to creep into her vision and whispers from the Fade sounded louder and more tempting. Desires murmured in her ears – how much she wanted to win this, how she wanted to save her friends, how she wanted their love. Pride made sugar-coated promises of gold – how if she just gave in she could destroy the Qunari and rule Kirkwall herself. To tune them out, Hawke bit the inside of her lip, the pain helping her stay focused despite her desperation.

Three Stens lay dead now, unmoving atop the pile of corpses. As she saw two more rush out of the Keep, she wondered if the Arishok wasn't desperate as well. Surely he didn't have much more to send against them. Surely this would be over soon. Her eyes darted frantically around the courtyard, searching for one target in particular – the mage. After she'd nearly shattered him with ice and stone, he'd blinked out of sight. In-between assisting Fenris with his numerous melee opponents and keeping stray fighters off of herself and Anders, she'd completely lost track of the Saarebas.

A drop of sweat stung her eyes. She blinked to clear her vision. For the moment, she'd had no choice but to release the arcane shield around herself in favor of manipulating Fenris' opponents with force and elemental magic. It made her open to ranged attacks. How the enemy hadn't noticed was beyond her. Perhaps it was thanks to Fenris and the impression he made on the battlefield – the terror he instilled even among the fearless. Not only that, but he knew the moment an enemy targeted one of the casters, especially her. When he saw that, he made sure that they could not look away from him again.

_When will this end?_ – a stray thought beckoned. Hawke shook her head to clear the fog there and raised her arms in the air. Her voice was hoarse from chanting, so she cast her next spell in her mind. _Heat, flame, fire, destruction – heed me. Come to me. Envelop me. Rise up to meet my will and burn my enemies out of existence._ Fire nipped at her fingertips, sparking to life and spreading down to her forearms. Above the enemies surrounding Fenris, a cloud of ash whirled into existence. Hawke felt the drain once more – felt it on her soul – and wondered how much longer they could last. _Burn them. Burn them all to dust. Leave nothing. _

Suddenly, a sound. Something was behind her. No. She couldn't stop casting. She couldn't turn. The magic held her in its sway as it used what little remained of her mana to create the firestorm. Someone shouted behind her in Qunlat. Though she did not know the language, she understood one word with utmost clarity. _Gaatlok_ – the dangerous explosives the Qunari used to shatter stone. At that moment, a wave of dread pooled in her stomach. She knew she was about to suffer a possibly fatal hit unless she did something. The fire storm finally released its hold on her. Without missing a beat, she began to cast a barrier around herself.

"Fenris!" Merrill screamed. "Watch out!" Time seemed to stop. Her train of focus completely thrown off, Hawke whipped her head around to look towards where Merrill was pointing. It was him. The Saarebas. He'd materialized out of nowhere and was now aiming a spear made of stone at Fenris' exposed back.

_No! He'll die!_ – and that was the end of reason. Her vision swam with red. The barrier she'd been casting to protect herself sputtered and died. Hawke funneled all of her energy towards Fenris, using her hands to point the way. In less time than it took to blink, the sphere of force wrapped itself around the elf, a wall harder and more unyielding than any armor. The Saarebas hurled the spear. It shattered on the barrier. Fenris stopped in mid-swing, turning to see his assailant. As his eyes flickered to Hawke's, she saw confusion and something that resembled fear erode the veneer of calm on his features like acid.

_Thank the Maker_ – she thought. The world tilted. Something pushed her forward. Then darkness claimed her and she knew no more.

* * *

Fenris saw, but couldn't believe. A general numbness had fallen over him when he saw Hawke being thrown by the blast from the _Gaatlock_. Somehow, an Ashaad had snuck past Fenris to flank her. He'd been so focused on keeping everything else off her and Merrill that the thought of someone sneaking around him hadn't crossed his mind. He heard someone shouting her name, realized in a haze that it was his own voice. She flew hard and fast, her back finally colliding with a nearby wall with a sickening sound of breaking bone. The barrier around him faded away abruptly.

The battle seemed to freeze. Fenris turned and saw the mage that had been responsible. Already, he was casting another spell. Much like it had during his fight with Hadriana, Fenris' mind shattered. Any control that he'd had over his rage faded into nonexistence. Fury so great filled him that he thought he would be sick. This _thing_ had dared to hurt her – had dared to hurt _his_ Hawke.

_She could be dead - _ a voice spoke from the shadows of his rage. _This __**mage**__ has killed her._ Something tangibly snapped. Later, he wouldn't remember much of what happened next. The mage hurled a fireball at him. Fenris stood in place, the lyrium in his skin glowing more intensely than ever before. More magic was thrown his way. He absorbed it all until the Sarberaas hesitated. Not giving him a chance to ponder about this turn of events, Fenris crouched down and leapt forward. The mage was writhing in his grasp before he could finish casting another blink spell. Fenris held nothing back. No restraint. Not for the filth that had dared to harm their leader.

The image of Hawke hitting the wall flashed in his mind; the sound of it; the blood trail her body left behind as it slid down the stone. He felt the heart of the Saarebas fill his hand, felt it give a last shudder of fear before Fenris' claws crushed it into slime. How had he not seen it? How had he failed her so completely? The image flashed again – Hawke flying through the air, helpless because she'd protected him. _Him. _He fell farther and farther into a black void until all he could hear was his own anguish.

_She could be dead. Dead. Dead. Dead._

"-ris! Fenris, please stop! They're dead already!" The strained voice snapped him back to reality. He blinked, feeling lightheaded. Merrill's face swam into focus. "Fenris!" A beat. The elf looked at her first, then at the ground. Blood was everywhere, soaking his armor, caking the courtyard, staining the soil. He'd obliterated anything that stood in his way. Closer to the Keep, a Sten shouted, pulling his men back in to retreat. A miracle.

"Hawke," he whispered, turning around. "Where is…?" He staggered towards the spot where he saw Anders kneeling. The mage's hands were glowing, rending despair disfiguring his normally passive face. Merrill tried to say something, but the elf did not hear. His feet took him in a run to Hawke's side. "Hawke…Hawke…Maker…" he fell to his knees beside her, wishing that he could look away from the gruesome sight. Blood pooled in a lurid halo around her head. She was as still as death. He reached out to touch her cheek, fearing the worst.

"Don't get in my way, Fenris," Anders growled, biting out the words through clenched teeth.

"Is she…"

"I don't know," the mage interrupted. Fenris could see how much that terrified the man – the uncertainty – and for once thought they might agree on something. His hands moved up towards her head. "I wish I could see the injury, but we can't move her. Not yet." Merrill knelt beside them, clasping her hands together and saying a prayer in her native tongue.

"_Lethallan_…please be alright…"

"How did this happen? She would never let something flank her like that…" Anders continued, his tone feverish. "I was watching. Everything was fine. She was casting a barrier." Fenris hung his head, feeling defeated.

"To protect me." He slammed his fist into the ground, welcoming the pain. "The fool! I would have been fine. Why? _Why?_"

"Hawke saved your life," Merrill added, reaching over and placing her hand on Fenris's shoulder.

"Nobody asked her to."

"She _is _a fool," Anders cut in. "To save your worthless hide. _You_, who doesn't know or care about anything other than your own plight." His hands shook from exhaustion as he funneled everything into the spell. Fenris felt his hackles rise, the hatred from earlier seething back to the surface.

"Silence, _abomination_."

"You, who threw her away. You, who continue to live in the past among things and memories that no longer matter."

"Anders, that's not true," Merrill began. Fenris gestured for her to remain silent.

"No one asked _your_ opinion, blood mage," he sneered. "She was protecting you, too. All of us."

"I hardly think this is the time for this, Fenris," she replied, frowning. "This isn't - "

"When _is_ the right time, then? Again…again, magic has taken from me."

"Hawke! Marker's breath, no…I won't let you die like this." Anders cursed. The glow around his hands intensified. "She's slipping away. No. Damn it, I don't have enough mana…" He reached into a pouch on his hip, one Fenris recognized as Hawke's. What was he doing with that? Keeping one hand in mid-cast, he pulled the cork out of a blue vial with his teeth and downed the contents. His eyes closed and when they opened, they were glowing blue in sync with his hands.

"Anders, be careful…the spirit," Merrill whispered.

"I don't care," came the steadfast reply. A few moments passed – minutes that felt like centuries – until Hawke's chest moved with a deep breath. The glow around Anders' hands subsided. The mage looked completely drained. One heartbeat. Then two. Fenris hadn't realized he'd been holding Hawke's wrist until he felt the gentle, sluggish, rhythm beneath his fingers.

"Anders?" Hawke murmured. Her eyes fluttered open – brilliant blue meeting the mid-day sun. The abomination looked like he wanted to embrace her, but stopped himself at the last moment. Fenris glared at him.

"Hawke, can you move?" he asked instead. She pushed herself into a sitting position and winced. Immediately, Anders wrapped his arms around her back to support her. "Be careful. Where does it hurt? Tell me."

"Fenris," she said faintly. "Where is he?" When their eyes met, the elf looked away. She made a small sound of pain and clutched her head. "Andraste's tits," she swore, "which one of you hit me with a hammer?" Anders helped her to her feet. It took her some time to gather her thoughts. "The Qunari. Are they all dead?"

"Looks like they've retreated for now, but something tells me they aren't the type to hide," Anders reasoned.

"Well, we don't have much of a choice but to try and get in there before they kill all the nobles of the city."

"Hawke, that's suicide," Anders protested.

"It is. Which is why I should be going alone." At this revelation, Fenris whirled around. No longer able to contain himself, he stepped forward and gripped the front of her tunic.

"Have you lost your mind?" he hissed. "Do you want to die?"

"I have no plans of dying today," she replied evenly.

"Could have fooled _me_." He shook her, furious yet still mindful of her recent injuries. "What were you thinking? Why did you protect me?"

Hawke hesitated for a moment. "Because you are my friend." She slapped his hands away and straightened her clothing. "My body just moved on its own."

"Don't ever do that again."

"Don't presume to order me around, Fenris," she frowned. "I'll do what I feel is necessary."

"Including killing yourself?"

"That wasn't in the plan, no. I knew Anders had my back." Those words stung more than they should have. Fenris's hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"So you trust the _abomination_ more than me?" A thick silence followed in the wake of that question. Fenris barely restrained his rage. Who was he truly angry with? Himself? Most definitely. Hawke? Even more so. Yet, below this emotion lay something more terrible – the thought that he'd almost lost her. As she turned her back to him, he wanted nothing more than to embrace her with the same ease that Anders displayed – to touch her as casually as Merrill did.

"We need to go," Hawke finally said. "This isn't the time or place for this conversation. Lives are at stake."

"You still haven't mentioned a plan that doesn't involve you becoming a martyr," Anders interjected. "I'm going with you, Hawke. I won't let you face this alone."

"Me three," Merrill cut in cheerfully.

"I have a feeling the Arishok might listen if I appeal to his honor," Hawke said, thoughtful. She looked at Fenris. "I know you're angry with me, but I've seen you speak with him before. If we're going to survive this, I'll need you, Fenris."

"Why are you so desperate to defend this city?" he inquired. "Why give your life for these people?"

"I'd rather it not come to that. But, if it does, then I suppose that's fate. At least I'll know I did everything I could for my home." She shook her head. "I don't want this city to become another Lothering. I couldn't protect it all those years ago." Hawke turned to him, then, and smiled. "Now, are you going to help me or are we just going to stand here?" The flames of his anger eased. How did she always manage to turn things around to such an extent? What was it about this human woman that made her the center of his world? Not like Danarius had been. No. A different center. The kind that made him want to move forward and change. Unwilling to let her off the hook so easily, however, he frowned.

"I remain at your side," the elf simply said and moved in the direction of the Keep.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Saarebas**

**Chapter 2**

* * *

Hawke anticipated that what she would find inside the Keep wouldn't be pretty. She had heard enough about the Qunari from Fenris to know that they were not a gentle people. Not only that, but the Arishok himself was at the end of his patience. Yes, she expected to see some brutality. What she did _not_ expect was to see the Viscount's head tumbling down the stairs from the second floor or to see the frozen mask of horror that twisted his dead features. Merrill gasped when she saw it.

"Oh my…is that?"

"It _was_," Anders remarked.

As she'd expected, once she appealed that she wished to speak to the Arishok (and killed a few Qunari unwilling to negotiate), Hawke and her companions had been allowed inside. _To what end, though?_ – Hawke wondered now, watching as the Arishok kicked away the former Viscount's limp body. _If he killed a man like that, what's to stop him from just having us executed on the spot?_ Her jaw clenched as she considered that she'd just dragged her friends to their deaths. _No! I won't let that happen no matter what I have to do._

"_Shanedan_, Hawke. I was expecting you," the Arishok greeted. Cassara reflected on the situation. She and the Viscount hadn't been the best of friends over the years, but the smile that hovered on the Arishok's lips still rubbed her the wrong way. For him – for _anyone_ – to stand in front of her and smile while their hands were tainted with innocent blood was enough to boil her blood. She did not return the Arishok's respectful bow of the head, did not break eye contact for even a second. "You came quicker than I expected. But for all your might, you are still no different from these _Bas_." He gestured to the crowd of nobles gathered in the room. "You still do not see."

"I see a man who is ready to start a war on principle," she challenged, tilting up her chin. The Arishok paused. Hawke felt her muscles tense in anticipation. She didn't think that the Arishok would attack her without warning. Doing so would compromise his honor. Yet, she wasn't foolish enough to trust her or her friends' lives to a theory.

"And what would the Qunari be without principle?" the Arishok queried. She wondered if he saw the tension in her, for he shouldered his massive axe and took a more relaxed stance. "You, I suspect." He made a few quick gestures to his troops. An Ashaad stepped down and grabbed a pair of women, pulling them back. They screamed.

"What are you doing?" Hawke asked. "Stop involving innocent people, Arishok." Throwing caution to the wind, she slammed the base of her staff into the ground. Trails of lightning zapped outwards, singeing the fancy red carpet. The Arishok raised a brow.

"Prove yourself, _Basra_, or kneel with your brethren." More screams as people were pulled away. Out of the crowd, six Qunari – bigger than typical Ashaad – stepped forth.

"They are Honor Guard," Fenris murmured beside her ear. "Be careful, Hawke."

"Just keep them off of Anders. He looks like he's ready to collapse." The three mages and elf warrior backed up until they stood with their backs nearly touching. "Merrill, you know what to do."

"_Melana sahlin_," the elf agreed. As the Qunari lurched forward to attack simultaneously, Merrill let out a battle cry. Vines made of green magic sprung from around her, grabbing the Qunari and pulling them inwards. The warriors went down with cries of shock. Neither Hawke nor Fenris hesitated. Fenris tilted back his head and howled. The lyrium in his skin pulsed, sending out a burst of energy that stunned their assailants. Meanwhile, Hawke chanted the words for a fireball. Her hands and the staff she held caught fire, as did the ground where the Qunari were writhing to regain control of their limbs. She poured mana into the spell until she heard them screaming.

Despite their pain though, they did not give up. One of the warriors reached out and grabbed at Merrill's ankle. Fenris shifted his weight between his feet and swung in a downwards arc, slicing off the warrior's arm. He screamed just as the others began to regain their footing. As they converged on Anders, Hawke flipped around sent out a burst of icy spikes, impaling three of the Honor Guard at once.

Two left.

From the corner of her vision, she saw Fenris decapitate another.

One.

The last proved to be the most difficult. He made use of an opening to shoulder Fenris aside. With a great heave, he lugged his bladed polearm towards Hawke's chest, hoping to slice her in half. Fortunately, she saw the motion at the last minute and managed to stagger him with a mind blast. Had she possessed more mana, the spell would have sent him flying away from her. As it was, it just managed to offset his aim. Instead of cutting her in half, the blade slid cleanly between the plates of her soft armor. She gasped as she felt the metal pierce under her rib. Adrenaline dulled whatever pain she felt. Furious at herself for allowing him to get so close, she pointed her staff at him and cast winter's grasp. The spell flew true, planting a chunk of spiked ice directly in the center of his chest. The warrior stumbled, spewed blood, then dropped to the ground in a heap.

Anders was at her side in an instant, his face so grey that Hawke felt a stab of true concern for him. "Are you alright, Hawke? Did he get you?"

"No. I'm alright," she lied, forcing a smile to her face. He looked so relieved that she couldn't feel bad about the falsehood. The poor man was past exhaustion. Any further strain would endanger him. _Just a scratch_ – she told herself. _Can't even feel any pain._ As the party regrouped, she turned to face the Arishok.

"_Parshaara_," the enormous Qunari spat. "You are _Basalit-an_, after all. Few in this city command such respect." As he spoke, he stepped down, making a path straight for them. Though he continued to shoulder his weapon, Hawke was still on edge. "Tell me, Hawke. You know I cannot withdraw. How would _you_ resolve this conflict?" They stared each other down for a moment as she considered her answer.

"There is only one way this is going to end." The finality in her words surprised her. Hadn't she come here to negotiate for the hostages' freedom? Had her temper finally gotten the best of her common sense?

"I agree," the Arishok conceded.

"_Arishokost. Maaras shokra. Anaan esaam Qun_," Fenris spoke out. "You have declared this woman _Basalit-an_. Therefore, she has the right to challenge you." Hawke's thoughts scattered. Challenge him? Too wary of breaking eye contact with the Qunari leader, she bit her lip to keep herself steady. The Arishok looked mildly amused.

"If you truly knew the Qun, _elf_, you would not suggest I battle a female."

"But she is no female. She is a respected outsider by your own words." The Arishok's smile faded. He looked thoughtful, his eyes so intense that they seemed to burn holes in Hawke's resolve. She did not back down, however, no matter how insane Fenris's suggestion sounded.

"Very well," the Qunari proclaimed. "What say you to a duel, Hawke?"

_This is insanity_ – her mind shouted.

"Anything special I should know?" she heard herself ask.

"We fight. You and I alone. Defeat me or kill me and the duty that binds me is ended. The others will return to Par Vollen."

"And if _you_ defeat or kill _me_?" He smiled, making the unease in her belly grow. Something nagged at her about this, but she couldn't comprehend what it was.

"If I kill you, you are dead. If I defeat you, you will submit yourself to the Qun as Saarebas, to take your place in chains." There was a commotion behind her.

"Hawke, no. Don't do this. This is asinine." Anders – trust him to always be the voice of reason. Well, perhaps only sometimes. "Not to mention you're - "

"Do not interfere, _mage_," Fenris snapped, pulling Anders back. That smile – the one Hawke was really beginning to hate – returned to the Arishok's face. An air of superiority hung about him.

"You are afraid, _Basra_?"

"I agree," Hawke ground out. "To the death or defeat, Arishok."

"_Meravas!_ So shall it be!" he decreed. Immediately, Qunari troops began to clear people out of the way to give the two room.

"Let go of me, you idiot!" Anders shouted, struggling in Fenris's vice-like grip. "What have you done? She's going to be killed!"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Anders," Hawke chimed in with a wry grin. The mage broke away from the elf, stepping towards her.

"You know that's not what I mean. You lied to me. You're injured. And you're still not recovered from the courtyard. Hawke, please don't do this." Still smiling, she patted his arm.

"I'll be fine. I'm a big girl, you know."

"Fenris is going to - "

"Fenris gave us the chance we need. Rest and be prepared in case the Qunari do not keep their word."

"Move, _Basra_," a stern voice commanded. They looked up to see a Sten glaring down at them. "The challenge will begin." As her friends were led away, Hawke caught Fenris' eyes. For a moment, she saw her own fear reflected there.

* * *

The Arishok stood before her, the golden rings around his horns gleaming in the light that streamed through the windows into the Keep. He'd thrown off some armor for ease of movement, but the action did not give her confidence. Somehow, he looked even larger and fiercer now – more agile. A part of her had hoped that she'd be able to use her size to her advantage. Somehow, she doubted that would be possible now. One of his guards handed him another weapon, just as massive as the one he always held. She balked. Not good. Dual weapons meant she would have to do a lot of rolling to dodge them. Her side throbbed in response to this thought.

_Don't panic, Hawke. Keep your head. Oh shit…_ as she stood up from her pose of meditation, a wave of dizziness nearly sent her careening into a column. She managed to regain her footing, feeling the eyes of the crowd upon her. _Like a murder of crows above the battlefield_ – Cassara thought, dazed. Beneath her armor, she could feel blood seeping down her side and tickling her thigh. Why hadn't she ever considered asking Anders to teach her healing magic? Not all mages were capable, sure, but with a tutor like Anders perhaps she could have managed to learn at least something that would staunch a wound like this.

"Let the challenge begin!" a Qunari announced from the second floor. Already? She would have to start with something quick – no time for chanting long spells. Something to slow him. Something to weaken him. Something to –

The ground tilted upwards as the wind was knocked out of her. The Arishok hadn't waited for the announcer to finish before he barreled towards her in a charge. His massive torso rammed into hers. The creature was at least twice her size, if not more. Taking the brunt of his weight proved too much. She and her staff went flying. Half way through the motion, Hawke understood that she needed to roll or the impact with anything in her path would finish her. The first thing in her way was a pillar; she curled in on herself and managed to roll out of its way, narrowly avoiding it. Above her, she heard the crowd roaring. As she got to her feet, she immediately cast a barrier around herself.

_Well, at least that hit got the adrenaline going_ – she mused. The pain in her side had receded into the background once more. Frantic to keep an eye on her opponent, she gasped when he nearly overwhelmed her again. Reflex worked quicker than thought. Before Hawke knew what she was doing, she was already casting crushing prison. The Arishok grunted as the magic swirled around him and stopped him in his tracks. He roared and struggled, the magic starting to bend against his strength in mere seconds.

_Flames, heed my call – rise to my service, obliterate my enemy, burn him, destroy him, devour him!_ Fire flew from the end of her staff towards the imprisoned Arishok. He hissed as the element burned his skin. Without pause, she moved on to the next spell in her arsenal – stone fist. Pulling on the ground beneath her, she used her power to tear out a chunk of marble and stone. Grunting from exertion, she leaned back then threw out her arms, sending the mass flying. Just as the rocks collided with the Qunari, he broke free of the prison. Large as he was, the force only managed to make him stumble for a moment.

"You _dare_, _Saarebas_?" He roared, furious now. "You _dare touch me with your filthy powers?_" His eyes widened, looking crazed. "I will show you where your place is once you submit to me!" He charged again, but this time she was ready. Using force magic, she pushed herself backwards and out of the way of his rampage. Using the momentum to her advantage, she flipped her staff and sent a burst of ice towards her enemy. The spikes were small, but each one embedded itself into the Qunari's flesh, causing blood to ooze from the wounds.

_Fear me, fear all, fear yourself – find him, horror – find his mind and weave your spell to make him taste true terror!_

Green magic flared from her hands. She flipped her staff horizontally. The Keep filled with the Arishok's howls of fear as her spell attempted to break his mind. Yet, just like with her crushing prison, he broke free before she could finish the chant for a firestorm. _Maker, he's fast…how can something that large move so quickly?_ After bobbing and weaving for what seemed like hours, Hawke came to a decision. _I'm going to have to let him get close – perhaps close enough to cut me. _She looked at the greatswords in his hands. _Assuming one cut won't slice me in half. Shit…this is going to hurt…_

Even so, she knew that this would be her only chance. Normally, either Aveline or Fenris was beside her to control large and well armored opponents while she fired up her spells. She missed them sorely now as she began to charge a walking bomb in her mind. Her lugs felt as though they were on fire, as did the gash in her side. Through blurred vision, she could make out blood stains all over the floor. Hers? Or the Arishok's? She couldn't be certain. _I'll have to blind him, first. _Still chanting and charging the bomb in one hand, she used the force in her staff to rip out of pieces of the floor and hurl them towards the Arishok. He dodged most of the flying debris, but wasn't prepared when a hex followed. The blind spell hit its mark and the Arishok roared, sounding like a wounded tiger. _Now!_ Taking advantage of the brief lull, Hawke sprang forward, aiming her glowing palm for his back. Elation filled her as she made contact right between his shoulder blades.

But luck, it seemed, was not on her side. The blind spell wore off too quickly. She hadn't been able to give it enough mana for duration. The moment her hand touched his skin, the Arishok whirled around, eyes wide, teeth bared. He knocked her hand aside with the blunt end of his axe. She felt her wrist snap with the impact. Desperate not to waste this chance, she tried to salvage what she could of the spell with her other hand. Using the wounded arm as a shield, she blocked a second hit from his axe and managed to jump up and grab his neck. Pouring all of her mana and focus into raw intent, she screamed the words of the spell and watched in satisfaction as the glow entered his veins. Her victory did not last. His anger giving him strength against the new pain in his body, the Arishok reached back and delivered a stunning blow to her side. As she flew backwards, Cassara barely managed to shield her back with half a barrier.

Everything turned upside down. For the second time that day, she lost all sense of direction. Her right arm didn't respond when she tried to move it. Pain – horrible agony – wrapped her body in a glove of suffering. Despite it all, she forced herself to her feet, determined not to die on the ground. Before her, the Arishok convulsed, visible tendrils of purple venom making their way through his limbs. Displaying an endurance she had never seen before, he stood, eyes burning with hate.

"I will not submit to you, _Saarebas_," he chocked out. "I will not - " Just as she thought he might fall, the door to the keep burst open. There, silhouetted in the sunlight, stood Knight Commander Meredith and First Enchanter Orsino.

"What is the meaning of this interruption?" a Sten shouted from above. "This is a duel of honor! Step away, _Basra!"_ The two ignored him. Instead, Orsino threw out a crushing prison to ensnare the Arishok. Pandemonium broke out. Hawke felt herself losing consciousness. Within Orsino's prison, the Arishok roared once before the bomb spell blew him asunder from inside. As her eyes rolled back into her head and she fell, Hawke could have sworn she heard Fenris calling her name.

* * *

"Fenris, stop! Where are you taking her?" Anders struggled to keep up with the elf as he sped through the streets of Hightown, winding from back alley to back alley. "Stop! She needs healing!"

"I know," he heard the elf growl.

"Then stop!" Faced with no other alternative, Anders cursed and petrified the elf's legs. The spell stopped him so abruptly that he nearly dropped the woman in his arms.

"_Venhedis_, _mage_! I will kill you if you try that again!" He struggled, but the spell held fast, giving Anders the chance he needed to catch up.

"Have you lost your mind? Every second that goes by lowers her chances of recovering," the mage urged. "Let me see her. Put her down, you imbecile!"

"Templars…there are Templars everywhere. What do you think they will do if they catch her?" Fenris bit out between strained breathing. His face had turned a disturbing shade of green.

"Calm down, Fenris, and think! For once, use your brain instead of," the mage floundered for the proper expression then gave up with a shake of his head. "It doesn't matter right now. Quickly. Set her down. They won't find us here." The petrification wore off. Anders thought the elf might bolt again, but at that moment, Hawke let an agonized moan slip past her lips. Fenris froze, obviously distressed. Fed up with his hesitation, Anders slipped his arms under Hawke's back and knees, pulling her out of Fenris's grip. He allowed himself only a second to enjoy how she felt in his hold before he set her down as gently as possible. Immediately, he began to run his hands over her obvious injuries – hovering but not touching.

"Help me get the tunic off of her," he commanded. The black leather was soaked through with blood. With some maneuvering, the two managed to remove her outer armor, revealing the flimsy cotton beneath. That, too, was soaked through, but at least Anders could inspect the injuries more closely.

"What did that _fasta vas _do to her?" Fenris asked, his voice hoarse. "I had no doubt," he continued as Anders began to stitch their leader back together with magic. "I had no doubt that she could best him…"

"At the cost of her life?" the mage demanded, incredulous. "This just proves how little you care about her. You _monster_," he spat.

"If her life didn't hang by a thread right now, _abomination_, I would tear your heart out myself. What do you know about any of this? About me?"

"Later, I'll contest you, Fenris. Right now, let me concentrate." He closed his eyes, allowing himself to sink closer to the Fade, where he could draw on more power. The right side of her body was completely crushed, as though a rampaging herd of bulls had stomped on her. "This may hurt her, Fenris. If she starts thrashing, I need you to hold her still." First, he mended her lungs, then her bones. At first, things seemed to be going well – until he got to her ribs. As each one popped back into place, the pain seemed to piece her subconscious. What started as moans rapidly evolved into screams. Anders felt his heart clench. Seeing the woman he loved in so much agony was nothing short of a nightmare. An arm lashed out as Hawke tried to push him away. He swore. "Damn it, Fenris! What did I just say?"

He opened his eyes to look at his partner. Fenris was staring at Hawke's writhing body with a look of horror. If possible, he'd lost even more color in his face. "What are you doing to her? You're hurting her…"

"I'm _healing_ her! Now hold her down before she breaks my focus." At last, his words sunk in. Fenris rushed to pin her to the ground. He bent down, covered her mouth with his hand, and whispered something in her ear – words that Anders knew he was better off not hearing. Instead, he steadied himself and continued the procedure. One by one, he set her bones back in place – ribs, collar bone, shoulder, arm, and wrist. Eventually, she fainted from the pain alone and the alley grew quiet. Mending muscle and skin was much easier. By the end of it all, all three of them were bathed in sweat. When he was through, Anders backed away, thinking he might be sick for the first time in his life. Not because he didn't have a scrap of mana left in his body, but because he had just caused the woman he cared for more agony that he was certain she'd ever endured. He looked down at his trembling hands, lost in emotion.

"We should move on," Fenris croaked. "Is it safe to move her?" Anders nodded and watched as the elf lifted Hawk's petite body into his arms once more. "My home will be sufficient. At the very least, the Templars won't think to look there tonight." Without waiting for Anders to agree or disagree, Fenris turned and made his way towards what was once his master's mansion.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Saarebas**

**Chapter 3**

* * *

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"_Bullshit," the Seeker accused. "Are you trying to tell me that the Champion fought the Arishok in single combat and won?" _

_Varric nodded, smiling. "Yes." _

"_That doesn't make sense. If she won, why did they not leave as promised?"_

"_You're missing the point here, Seeker," the dwarf maintained. "She won, but the Qunari didn't see it as a victory. What they saw was another mage casting a spell on their leader during an honorable duel, and let me tell you – they didn't like it one bit." _

"_But, if your words are to be believed, then the First Enchanter didn't really interfere. It was the Champion that defeated the Arishok." _

_Varric shrugged. "The day I understand Qunari logic is the day I put aside telling stories." _

"_And what about Knight Commander Meredith and the Templars? Surely now they knew that the Champion was an apostate. They would not have let that slide." _

"_Believe me when I say they didn't. After the battle, it didn't matter that Hawke had just saved the city. Meredith was furious that such a high-profile apostate had slipped out of her grasp." _

"_Slipped?" _

"_Well, if that's what you want to call the daring rescue that Fenris and Anders pulled off. Hawke wasn't alone – she had many friends, including myself, who were eager to shelter her from the Templars." _

"_And the Qunari?" _

"_Especially the Qunari." _

"_What happened after the Champion escaped?" _

"_Well, as you know, the Qunari were furious. They felt that Hawke had planned the whole thing, and now, they were leaderless. They were trapped in a haze of confusion." Varric used his hands to mimic a balance. "On one side, you had those who felt that they had no reason to remain, and on the other you had others who – after being stripped of their duty and beliefs – had nothing to turn to but vengeance." He shifted in his seat. "After Meredith and Orsino drove them from the Keep, they escaped to the Underground and the Wounded Coast, but they didn't remain scattered for long." _

"_Go on." _

"_There were still loyalists in the city – converts – that depended on them for protection from the laws and hardships of Kirkwall. The Qunari took advantage. They'd saved up plenty of resources in the years they spent in the compound, and now it seemed they were ready to spend it all on tracking down the one they believed murdered their leader." _

"_The Champion." _

"_Exactly." _

"_That doesn't make sense." The Seeker ran a gloved hand through her hair, a firm line of frustration knitting her brow. _

"_What doesn't?" _

"_With so many against her, how did she remain hidden for nearly a year? There are no records of her presence for that time…" Varric hesitated to answer. The Seeker stopped pacing. "She wasn't hidden, was she?" _

"_Not exactly." _

"_But you just said she had an impressive network of supporters." _

"_She did, and she would have been fine had it not been for - " _

"_For what?" the Seeker demanded, raising her voice. She planted her hands on either side of Varric's chair, eyes simmering with impatience. _

"_Fenris." _

"_Her elven lover?" The Seeker's eyes widened. _

"_He wasn't her lover. At least, not yet." _

"_So he was responsible for - "_

"_No. Not directly, anyway." He teased her with a moment of silence before continuing. "If you back away and give me some room to breathe, I'll tell you the rest." _

* * *

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Viscous, suffocating darkness permeated the room, covering all it touched in malevolent darkness. The complete absence of life had long ago left a stain upon this place, a tangible hopelessness that hid behind every shadow. In the corner, Fenris sat in a large, worn armchair reading a document by the moonlight. He'd taken off his armor for the luxury of a warm bath. Orana, Hawke's servant, had helped him lug buckets of hot water from the cellar to the largely unused bath tub upstairs. Now, several hours later, he enjoyed the feel of a crisp breeze kissing the bare skin of his chest as he relaxed. It felt like centuries since he'd been able to unwind.

As his eyes moved down the page in front of him, the markings on his skin began to glow, spurred by emotion. Before reaching the end, he moved a glass of wine to his lips and took a long sip.

_Brother, _

_I was so happy to hear that you wanted to meet me. This is my first time in the city, so I chose a location for us to meet that I'm sure you will know. A local merchant told me about a tavern called "The Hanged Man". What an odd name for a tavern. I will be there every day for the next two weeks. After that, if you haven't come, I will accept that you changed your mind and cannot risk meeting me. I know things haven't been easy for you. Rumors spread in this place quicker than the Magister's palaces in Minrathous. Please, brother, come find me. I've been waiting to see you for so long and almost thought it was a dream when I received your letters. _

_Love, __Varania_

Though the words should have thrilled him, he felt nothing but emptiness. Should he not be happy that his sister wanted to meet him? He'd searched for her for nearly three years. Should he not feel joy at the thought of reclaiming a piece of his past? The paper in his hands was torn and riddled with wrinkles. He'd tried to toss it away more times than he could count. Instead of any kind of excitement or happiness, only a dull ache permeated his chest – the knowledge that this could all be a hoax set by his former master. Theoretically, his sister should have arrived in Kirkwall two days ago, but he had yet to gather up the courage to see her.

The city wasn't the most peaceful place right now. The Qunari uprising was only the beginning of the recent rash of troubles, starting with the brutal murder of the Viscount and ending with the near death of Hawke during her duel with the Arishok. A duel which, according to the Qunari, had been a sham. Now, Tal Vashoth and stray Qunari ran amok in the city, searching for the one who had betrayed them – the Saarebas. Not even the Templars could contain them, for the Qunari had paid for support from the Coterie and various mercenary companies that held Hawke in very low regard.

A sharp sound cut through his musings. Alert for any sign of danger, Fenris was on his feet in a split second. He'd left his sword resting by the armchair, unwilling to let it out of his sight. The sound came from the chamber where Hawke rested. Fearing an intruder, he grabbed his weapon and dashed up the stairs that lead directly to her room. His feet made no sound; Fenris was a master of silence. No one would hear him coming unless he willed it to be so. When he reached her door, he pressed his ear against the peeling wood.

"No…please, don't…" Her plea gave him pause. Hawke never begged, never pleaded. What was going on? Knowing that hesitating now could mean a risk to her safety, Fenris shouldered open the door, immediately crouching into a defensive stance. To his surprise, the room was empty save for the woman who lay on the bed, convulsing from what looked like a nightmare. So relieved that he shook with it, Fenris approached the bed. A single candle burned next to it, giving off enough light to illuminate Hawke's face. He frowned.

Even after nearly two weeks of rest after the ordeal that nearly cost the mage her life, she still looked pale and drawn. Dark rings outlined her eyes. With disquiet, he recalled how much effort Anders had put into helping her survive. Though he'd healed her in the alley after the duel, the blood loss and the fever that followed on its heels nearly finished her. Not to mention, the newly set bones in her side were still brittle and needed time to recover. Once Fenris had carried her to this bed, they'd been too afraid to move her. Thrice her heart had stopped – thrice he thought his own would stop along with hers. Yet, somehow, the abomination managed to revive her.

Fenris learned a new way to hate the man in the past several days. For years, he'd despised everything he was and all that he stood for. Freedom of mages? It had to be a bad joke. Every time the abomination spoke out for the cause, Fenris had to restrain himself from putting his fist to the mage's face. Yet, watching him with Hawke after the duel, he finally understood what truly drove him to the edge. The way he touched her, looked at her, worried for her, _wanted her_ – unnerved him. He'd believed that he and the abomination shared no common ground. How wrong he'd been. As he saw Anders run himself ragged trying to keep Hawke alive, he saw _himself_.

He looked down on her now and felt all of those things – the yearning to touch her, the bottomless need for her, and the mind-numbing terror that he could still lose her. The bedsheets were tangled around her legs, soaked with sweat. The inky blackness of her hair spread around her head like a waterfall of onyx. Unable to stop himself, he knelt beside her and ran long, graceful fingers through through the soft tendrils. She jerked at his touch, squeezing her eyes shut and biting her lip. Small hands squeezed the covers, pulling them up to her chin. Seeing her thus, terrified of something that he could neither threaten or defeat, Fenris felt a rush of agonizing helplessness.

"Mother," she whimpered. "Mother, please don't go…someone help me…" Each word felt like a knife being twisted in his gut. He wanted nothing more than to jump into the Fade with her and chase away the monsters that plagued her sleep. The fingers that gently moved through her hair caressed upwards until they cupped her cheek. With a thumb, he wiped away a stray tear.

"She is gone," Fenris murmured. "Let her go, lest the regret drive you mad." If she heard him, she gave no sign of it. "I know what that is, Hawke. Memories, regret – they are poison." His hand slid down her arm, his fingers entwining with her own. As though afraid that his touch would break her, he pressed his lips against her knuckles. "Come back to me. I am lost without you."

* * *

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"Cass…Cass, where are you?"

Hawke stirred into wakefulness to the sound of someone calling her name. At first, she thought she was dreaming. The only ones who called her _Cass_ were Bethany and Carver. This had to be a dream, for Bethany was dead and Carver hadn't spoken to her in years. She blinked up at an unfamiliar ceiling and attempted to take note of her surroundings. Walls covered in cobwebs and mildew, the smell of moldy concrete, torn up books and stray papers littering a floor that had more holes in it than her uncle Gamlen's house in Lowtown. A single candle burned on a dilapidated bed stand beside her.

_Is this…Fenris's mansion? _– she wondered, struggling to remember how she'd gotten here.

"Cass! I know you're here! Answer me, for Maker's sake!" She wanted to. Really, she did. Even if they hadn't been civil to each other for years, Hawke still loved her brother. That he was a Templar now complicated things, but not enough to destroy their bond. She heard doors slamming open and knew he was searching for her; she wanted to call out to him. Yet, something stopped her.

She struggled out of bed, pushing herself up and tossing her legs over the side. Standing proved to be a feat of willpower as her knees felt as though they were made of pudding. How had she gotten here? Memories – flashes – assaulted her. The Arishok – had she won their duel? Meredith and Orsino had interfered, but there was no doubt that it was Hawke's spell that had felled the mighty Qunari in the end. Would the invaders respect such a development? Had Kirkwall been secured? Confused and disoriented, Cassara stumbled to a wall, leaning against it for support. More flashes came. Anders and Fenris – their voices arguing above her. Pain unlike anything she'd ever felt.

Hawke looked down at her right side, remembering how the Arishok had broken her bones. The limb was wrapped in bandages smelling faintly of Elfroot. Had her friends taken her here? If so, why weren't they here now? Had something happened? Suddenly alert, Cassara looked wildly around for her staff and found it leaning in the corner of the room. The far corner. Footsteps – rushed and animated – drew closer to the door of her chamber. She bent down and blew out the candle. Any moment now, Carver would burst through the door. A Templar. Was he hunting her, then? Had he finally decided to step out from her shadow? Nausea assailed her – the thought of having to fight Carver…

_No. There must be a reason he's here. He hasn't said a word about me to the others all these years. He wouldn't betray me._

Yet, no matter how many times she said that to herself, the moment that her brother threw open the door and stepped over the threshold into her chamber, Hawke felt sick with terror. His sword was drawn, shield poised at the ready. His blue eyes, so much like her own, blazed with righteous fury. Her mind struggled to make a decision. She knew she only had seconds before he was on her, and if he'd learned anything at all from the Templars, he would make sure she didn't have enough time to cast. Not that she had enough strength. As it was, she could barely keep herself standing, let alone consider casting an offensive spell at her own flesh and blood.

"Cass…Thank Andraste, you're safe," he whispered. He sheathed his blade and rushed forward, wrapping his arms around her like he used to when they were children. Embracing him like this hurt – he wore full plate, after all – but she didn't resist. She wasn't sure if what she felt was shock at her brother's sudden display of affection or if she could allow herself to feel happy that he didn't seem to hate her as she suspected.

"Carver…what are you doing here?" Hawke asked, her voice gruff. He pulled away from her and examined her, frowning when he saw the bandages on her arm. She squinted through the pitch black darkness to make out his face.

"What are you talking about, sister? All of Kirkwall is looking for you. I thought you were dead. After what happened at the Keep, all hell broke loose."

"After what happened?" Hawke frowned, a furrow cleaving her brow. "How long have you been looking? Are there other Templars with you?"

"You think I would betray you to the Templars?" Hawke couldn't be sure, but she thought her brother looked genuinely hurt at the suggestion. She shook her head.

"No, but Carver, we haven't seen each other in so long." Her eyes moved to one of the room's corners as though she'd suddenly found an interest in the run down book shelf there. "You never wrote or mentioned that you wanted to see me. I thought you blamed me for what happened to Mother…"

"Of course not," he assured, pulling her in for another hug. She stopped him mid-way.

"How did you find me here?" she repeated. He hesitated. "Carver?"

Before he could reply, another voice interrupted. "Clever little rats have their ways." Her head snapped up. Behind her brother stood Fenris, his lyrium markings coming to life in a blaze of azure. How he'd snuck up on them, Cassara couldn't be sure. He pointed the tip of his greatsword at Carver's neck. "Back away from her, _Templar_, before I decide your blood is worth spilling this night." Her brother raised his hands in a gesture of peace.

"It's alright. I'm not here to hurt her."

"That remains to be seen. Now back away." This time, Carver obeyed. With his hands still in the air, he took several steps back. Immediately, Fenris moved to place himself between the siblings, hiding Hawke behind his back. Cassara felt a rush of tenderness for him and the way he always placed himself between her and anything that sought to hurt her.

"And what happens now, Fenris? Are you just going to keep her here forever?" Carver had used the elf's name. How did he remember? She'd told him about the elf once, perhaps, when she'd first run into him all those years ago. At this point, Hawke felt her well of patience run dry. If there was anything she hated, it was the feelings of helplessness and confusion that ran rampant through her thoughts now. She put a hand on Fenris's shoulder.

"Will someone please explain to me what is going on? The last thing I remember was the duel with the Arishok."

"Sister, that was nearly two weeks ago…"

"What? Two weeks?" she echoed.

"You say my title with such loathing, elf, but you should know the Templars aren't your worst problem right now. At least she'll have a chance if the Templars find her. But if the Qunari come here first - " Carver stopped mid-sentence, bewilderment crossing his features.

"Carver, what's wrong?"

"I don't know…I just suddenly feel – ah!" Her brother's cry of distress was stifled by a wave of power that Hawke recognized too well. A petrification spell. Both she and Fenris looked towards the door, where new footsteps approached the three of them. From the shadows, Anders stepped forth, eyes glowing and staff pointed at Carver. Urgency spurred Hawke into action, for she knew that Anders wouldn't hesitate to attack her brother if he saw him as a threat. For all of Fenris's anger and his quick temper, Anders was far worse when it came to those who wore the Templar insignia. Leaping out from behind Fenris's back, she stepped protectively in front of her brother.

"Put down your weapon, Anders," she warned. "He isn't here for a fight."

"Hawke?" the mage asked. His tone suggested surprise. He lowered the hood that covered most of his face. "What are you doing up? You should be in bed." The glow faded from his eyes. Cassara bit the inside of her lip to keep her expression neutral. No matter how many times she saw evidence of the spirit that possessed Anders, the knowledge that he could snap at any moment still unnerved her.

"No," she answered. "I've slept long enough. Tell me what's going on here." She pointed towards Carver, "_after_ you release my brother." Anders looked like he would argue, but in the end he sighed and waved his staff, releasing the spell. Carver fell to his knees, gasping.

"Damned mages," he rasped. After ascertaining that he wasn't hurt, Hawke threw both Fenris and Anders a fiery glare.

"What does Carver mean by Qunari? The Arishok and I had a deal that when – what are you doing, Anders?"

"Please sit down before you hurt yourself, Hawke," he chided, wrapping one arm around her waist and supporting her with another. He led her back to the bed. "Fenris can fill you in while l make sure you're alright."

"I'm fine," she snapped, her temper rising. "We don't have time for this right now." Her outburst was meant to intimidate him, but for all the good it did she might as well have given Anders a pat on the back. He smiled at her, the gentleness in his eyes making her resolve – and anger – waver.

"I've spent the last two weeks putting you back together. Please don't waste my efforts," he scolded. It was difficult to keep shouting at someone who displayed such concern for her well-being, even more so if that someone had saved her life. She pursed her lips, irritated. "Alright, I'll sit, but you better explain everything right now."

"Now _that_," Carver mumbled, "is magic. If only _I_ knew how to make her listen like that."

"Shut up, Carver," Hawke bristled.

"It comes with the charm," Anders joked. She wanted nothing more than to slap him, but the moment she sat on the bed, exhaustion took hold. Naturally, Anders didn't miss a thing. "I'm surprised you could even manage a walk around the room. You lost so much blood I wasn't sure you'd pull through for a while. Hold out your arm." He gestured to Fenris. "Why don't you fill her in, since you apparently know more about our enemy than any of us? Without Fenris, we would still be under the impression that the Qunari were going home."

"Is that not the case?" Cassara asked, wincing when Anders began to remove the bandages around her arm.

"No," Fenris replied. "I believe it's safe to say that a full-blown war has broken out between Kirkwall and the Qunari with you at its center."

"War?" Cassara repeated, feeling a lump grow in her throat.

"To put it lightly, there's a bounty on your head. The Qunari believe that your duel was a plot to assassinate the Arishok. They've hired everyone from the lowest bandit to the highest ranking Coterie thug to capture you and bring you to them."

"We've been successfully hiding you here," Anders added. "No one has thought to search for you in this mansion, but now…" he trailed off, glaring at Carver.

"I wouldn't tell anyone," her brother protested. "I've been worried sick."

"You were not, or you might have taken the time to consider that you were being followed before coming here," Anders maintained.

"Followed? By whom?" Carver demanded.

"Does it matter?" Fenris cut in. "We can't keep her here any longer. She'll have to be moved."

"Don't speak about me as if I'm not here," Hawke protested hotly.

"Forgive us," Anders beseeched. "We aren't used to you being, well, conscious." His words gave Cassara a new perspective. Even in the darkness, she could see how exhausted both Anders and Fenris looked. Especially Anders. Two weeks, Carver said. Had they been caring for her this whole time? Had they been protecting her from so much danger? The thought made her catch her breath. She put her fingers under Anders' chin, forcing him to look at her.

"You look dreadful," she observed, brushing stray bangs from his eyes. "Don't tell me you've been running the clinic _and_ taking care of me."

"The clinic was overrun a few nights ago by a raiding party of Templars," Anders explained, his smile bitter. "I've tried finding a new location, but it seems that the walls have eyes and ears these days." The words weren't said with any hint of regret, but Hawke felt guilty anyway. "Don't," Anders insisted. "I can see you feel this is your fault, but it isn't. If anything, you saved a lot of lives back at the Keep." His hand came to rest on her knee, sending a shiver up her spine. "We're all proud of you."

"What about the others – Aveline, Merrill, Varric...?"

"They are fine, so stop frowning before you make your wrinkles worse," the mage laughed.

"If anyone has wrinkles, it's you, Anders," she smirked, biting her lip to hold in a chuckle. Now was not the time for mirth. "You say I can't stay here, but where else would I go? I don't want to put anyone in danger on my account."

"I don't know," Anders began.

"I do," Fenris concluded. "I need to consider all the possibilities, but the best chance we have right now is to find Varric. He has more connections in the city that anyone. If there's a man who can hide something in plain sight, it's that dwarf."

"You must be out of your mind," Anders countered.

"Not as much as you are," Fenris parried. "At least I have some semblance of a plan." Hawke sighed. At least one thing hadn't changed. The two were still at each other's throats. How they'd weathered this storm without killing each other was beyond her comprehension. "First thing's first, though," Fenris continued. "Get out, Templar. While you wear that armor, you are putting your sister in danger. If you wish to see her again, return when you no longer belong to the Order."

"Wait a minute, Fenris," Hawke retorted. "You can't just - "

As though her words had broken a leash that restrained his temper, the elf snapped. He pushed off from the wall, shouldered Anders aside, and stepped to the bed. She flinched when the claws of his armored gauntlets dug into her skin as he grabbed her shoulders and shook her. The sharp motion caused her head to spin and her arm to burst out in a rash of pain. In response, she put her hands on his chest and tried to push him away. His eyes burned like coals in a molten forge – blazing emeralds that stunned her with their intensity. "What can't I do?" he demanded. "Protect you? Keep you alive? Are you so eager to die, then? Do you have any idea how hard we've worked to keep people like _him_ away from you? You are a _mage_! A _mage_! He would sooner see you locked away and executed than continue this pretense of familial love."

"Fenris, you're hurting me," she whispered, stars filling her vision. His eyes widened, the fury there dissolving like sand washed away by a rising tide. When he relaxed his grip, she went limp in his hold.

"Forgive me," he stuttered, releasing her. "I just - "

"Fine," Carver chimed in. "If you insist that you don't need me, I'll leave."

"No, Carver, wait…"

"I thought things might be different now, Cass, but it looks like I'm still the third wheel in every scenario," he spat. "I thought you needed family. I thought you were alone. I thought you'd been captured or worse, killed. I don't know who followed me here, but I assure you it wasn't by my doing." He shuffled to the door. "I cannot leave the Order, and you cannot stop being what you are. I think it would be best if we did not see each other again." That said, he breezed past all of them and disappeared through the doorway. Hawke felt as though he took a part of her heart with him. In a moment, she heard the front door of the mansion slam shut.

"It's for the best, Hawke," Anders assured her. He sat beside her on the bed. "Right now, you only need to worry about yourself."

"On the contrary, I feel that right now there is more at stake than just my life. We have to stop this madness before Kirkwall falls apart."

"Until the Qunari are gone, I'm not sure that's going to be possible."

"Then the solution is simple, isn't it?" Hawke declared. "I'll just have to _make_ them leave."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Thank you to everyone who has added my story to their favorites/follows and especially to those that have sent me reviews. Your replies mean the world to me and inspire me to keep writing.

I apologize if there are typos in my work. I do try to go through the chapters many times before posting, but because they are so long I often don't manage to catch all the bumps and spelling errors in time. The length of this chapter, especially, got away from me very quickly. I can't seem to type fast enough.

I have many more exciting twists and turns planned for this story, so I hope to hear from more of you in the coming installments and that all of you enjoy the time you spend in the world I create.

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**The Saarebas**

**Chapter 4**

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"Tell me again how you believe that this will work, Hawke," Varric requested. "No, wait. Let me try to make sense of it myself." He scratched his head and leaned further back in the armchair Fenris had dragged in for him, kicking his feet up on the table that stood in front of it. The thing wobbled, unstable without its fourth leg. Like most of the furniture in Fenris's home, it was broken. "Let me get this straight. The Qunari want your head and have most of the city looking for you, the Templars want you just as badly, the Coterie has put out _several_ high-end bounties on your capture, and you want to do…what?"

Hawke smiled, eyes flashing in the candle light. "I want to go to my estate." She toyed with the glass of wine in front of her. "I know it sounds crazy - "

"It _is_," Fenris cut in from his place beside her at the round table. She elbowed him in the side to let him know what she thought of his interruption. Her other friends, fortunately, held their opinions back. That they'd come on such short notice was only a small bit of evidence that attested to their loyalty. Despite the personal danger, none of them had hesitated to respond to her invitation. She thanked the Maker for blessing her with such incredible companions.

"Just let me say my piece," Cassara complained. "I want to go to my estate. I know you said that it was being watched, but there are important valuables there that I must retrieve at any cost."

"Something more valuable than staying safe?" Anders asked, tapping his staff against the floor.

"Most of the place has been looted already," Varric intoned. "That was the first place everyone went to look for you, and without anyone to secure it the thing was an easy mark. We managed to get the servants out in time, but everything else with any remote value is probably gone."

"They didn't take what I need," Hawke assured them. "That house is riddled with secret doors and hidden passages. Just the cellar has endless walkways that run through different parts of the entire city. Those can't be navigated without specifics maps."

"What is so valuable that you would risk returning there, _lethallan_?" Merrill inquired.

"To be honest, I'm not sure you would agree with me if I tried to explain it," Hawke replied, running a hand through her dark hair.

"You're our leader, Hawke. We don't always agree with you, but we'll follow you." Cassara looked up, her blue eyes meeting Aveline's green ones. The older woman was smiling, the expression giving Hawke immeasurable confidence.

"Well," she began. "First of all, I have money set aside. A lot of it." She held up a hand. "Before you tell me that such things don't matter, consider that we are going to need all the resources we can to fight the Qunari. The Coterie is one thing, but there are plenty of hired thugs that would give up the chase if paid the right amount of money. Not only that, but we'll need to hire our own spies since walking around town and asking questions would attract too much attention." She paused to take a sip of her wine. "Second is information. I have certain…books…stored away. And documents. They might help us."

"Can you be more specific?" Varric requested.

"If we are going to get the Qunari to leave, we need something to dangle in their face that will supersede their need for revenge."

Varric snorted. "Unless you plan to tell me that you have their precious relic hidden in your house - " he stopped, his eyes widening. "You don't, do you?"

"No." Her hand tightened its grip on her wine glass. "It's with Isabella far across the sea by now." Fenris muttered a curse in what Cassara assumed to be Tevinter.

"So what? You're not going to suggest we go after her…" Anders proposed, cautious.

"No. That would be foolish," Hawke responded. "Isabella's betrayal was unexpected. It infuriated me, so I spent a lot of time and resources to try and get all the information on the relic and her employer that I could."

"Do you have any idea where she is?" Varric asked.

"No, and like I said, that doesn't really matter at this point. I knew the Qunari would strike out against us eventually. From the few times that I spoke to the Arishok, he seemed like a man hovering over the edge. "

"That's an understatement," the dwarf snorted.

"I had a feeling that it was only a matter of time before he would try to do us a favor and rid us of our 'waste of a society', as he liked to call it." Cassara clasped her hands together. "After Mother died I…well…I needed something to occupy my time. I started digging around trying to find how we could fix the mess Isabella left behind."

"You can't," Aveline commented. "If you ask me, that girl is the one responsible for all of this."

"I agree," Anders nodded. "Without the relic, there's nothing we can offer the Qunari to make amends."

"I can forge it," Hawke cut in. The room fell silent. "It won't impress another Arishok and it won't pass close inspection, but from what I understand there's only lower ranking soldiers, Ashaad, and Karasaad left to deal with. My research suggested that only certain individuals are even allowed to handle the book, let alone look at it." She looked at each of her friends, trying to gauge their reactions.

"Hawke, that's…" Anders intoned.

"Brilliant," Varric breathed. "I had no idea you had a project like this running. Why didn't you tell me?"

"It wasn't really top priority," Hawke said, looking sheepish. "I mostly considered it as something to keep my mind off…things. I never thought it would actually be useful."

"Last time I checked, you don't speak Qunlat," Fenris said. "How do you plan to forge something like this without such knowledge?"

"Don't _you_ speak it, Fenris?" Merrill suggested.

"Speaking isn't writing, and I'm sure that a relic like that has linguistic nuances in it that only a native would know." His lips thinned into a fine line. "Besides, once they have it, what then? Assume they leave and take ship back to Par Vollen. Once they see it is a fake, they will just turn around and come back. Only this time, they will bring an army to conquer."

"Always such a pessimist," Varric chided.

"He's right, though," Hawke agreed. Everyone fell silent again. An unexpected idea struck her, then. "What if we spread a rumor that the relic Isabella stole was a fake? That man she feared, Castillon, won't stand for it. From the things Isabella told me about him, his pride won't either."

"Won't he be angry?" Merrill suggested.

"That's the idea, Daisy," Varric stressed. "Maybe even angry enough to send her back with the real one to be sure."

"It's a stretch," Anders surmised. "At the moment, though, it's the best chance we've got."

"That doesn't solve the Qunlat issue, though," Aveline ventured. "It's not like we can kidnap a native and force him to help us."

"Well, do any of you remember that odd Qunari?" Hawke volunteered. "That one on the Wounded Coast who helped us fight the Tal-Vashoth?" Everyone looked thoughtful.

"I do," Merrill boasted. "He mentioned something about selling his sword."

"You plan to rely on him?" Fenris warned. "It's been years, Hawke. We don't even know if he's still alive…"

"He is," she replied firmly.

"_Or_ if he will help us," the elf continued.

"We'll have to take that risk," Hawke countered.

"The Wounded Coast is crawling with opposition," Aveline lamented. "We'll never get through without causing a commotion."

"There's a hidden entrance to a cave system that is located in the cellar of the Hanged Man," Varric proposed. He sat up in his chair and rested his elbows on the table. "If we can get Hawke into the tavern without being recognized, we can use the entrance and pass through the majority of the coast unseen."

"Easier said than done," Merrill chirped. "Everyone knows Hawke."

"I think I can help with that," Anders stated, moving from his place against the wall to the table in the center of the room. "We'll need to pay a visit to the Blooming Rose for some supplies first."

"What could we possibly need there?" Fenris challenged. Without answering, Anders glanced at Hawk and smiled.

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As far as Cassara knew, no one had ever tried to sneak _in_ to the Hanged Man. Typically, patrons and their coin were welcomed with open arms, no matter their background or reputation. There had been cases where customers had tried to sneak _out_ because they couldn't afford their tab, but going in or out of the tavern unnoticed was a feat all its own. The place was the center for Kirkwall's gossips, assuring that nothing and no one went about unseen.

"Please explain to me how you thought this was a good idea," Hawke grumbled, peeking out from behind a large stack of shipping crates. The entrance to the tavern was so close that she could hear some of the conversations inside the building.

"We'll be fine," Anders assured in a whisper. "Trust me. This isn't my first time trying to get around without being noticed." She could believe that, considering how many years he'd spent as an apostate in the public eye. Still, his plan seemed foolhardy rather than practical. She reached up and fingered the scratchy blonde wig he'd forced her to put on back at Fenris's mansion. The makeup on her face itched, making her wrinkle her nose in disgust. The tight corset and billowy skirt she wore trapped her in a new level of discomfort. Not to mention, the fabric still smelled like incense from the Blooming Rose. When Orana delivered the parcels to her, Hawke had adamantly refused to have anything to do with them. Only after an hour of persuasion did she finally give in. Her options were limited: wear the dress and disguise or listen to Fenris and Anders argue about who was more inferior when it came to strategy.

"Let's go over the plan again," she suggested. "Fenris starts a commotion. Aveline and some guards come to stop him, and we - "

"Are drunk lovers looking for a room, yes. As the Guard tries to restore order to the tavern, we come in and go downstairs."

"Why do we have to pretend like this? Can't we just slip in while everyone is killing each other?"

"Feeling shy, Hawke?" he teased. She smacked his shoulder with a look of annoyance. "It was Varric's idea," Anders reminded her. "I would think he knows what he's doing. It's not like anyone will recognize us, anyway."

"I still don't know how pretending we are lovers will help our cause," Cassara looked down at her clothes, "aside from the fact I'm dressed like a harlot...this is going to attract more attention, if you ask me." She glanced up at him. "What does this game of pretend entail, anyway?"

"Haven't you ever seen such things?" Anders inquired, raising a brow.

"Not as often as you, I expect. At least, that's if Isabella's tales about your exploits at the Pearl are to be believed."

"I don't know about that," Anders quipped. "All I know is that life is short. We could be dead tomorrow. I've always thought it best to live in the moment." He waved his hand dismissively. "Truthfully, though, Hawke. Have you never seen a lady enamored with her gentleman?"

Cassara made a disgusted face. "You expect me to giggle, then? To pretend to whisper sweet nothings and hold your hand?"

Anders smirked. "At the very least. Somehow I don't think your typical frown or the intimidating scowl you wear will convince anyone that you're in love."

"I do _not_ scowl," she pouted.

"Or maybe you just think a girl like you couldn't be enamored with someone like me." At that, she took a moment to examine him for the first time that day. She had to admit that he looked rather dashing. He'd chosen to wear a darker set of robes and wore his hair tied back at the nape. A few stray bangs fell in his face, accenting his unshaven chin. In the dim light, his eyes looked like they glowed a deep amber. Black outlined in gold trim made him look even taller than normal and the feathered mantle that he favored complimented the outfit nicely. She tried to imagine herself pretending to be enamored with him, holding his hand, leaning in close. "Are you alright, Hawke? Your face is flushed."

Cassara rubbed her temples. "How did I let you talk me into this again?"

"You know we need this."

"I know." Hawke sighed and glanced back at the tavern. "Has Fenris even been in a bar fight before?" she complained.

Anders smiled. "It's not as if one needs years of training to punch someone in the face."

"It's not that. I'm just concerned that he'll lose control. The last thing I need is Varric angry at me because I allowed my friend to destroy his tavern."

"It's not really _his_ tavern," Anders countered.

"You can be the one to tell him that when he's shouting about it getting wrecked." She crossed her arms over her chest, concerned. Anders raised a brow again.

"You give that _mongrel_ a lot of credit, don't you?"

"His name is Fenris. Why do you always - ?"

"Shh..." Anders cut her off before she could finish telling him off, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her towards him until they were completely hidden by the crates. One hand came up to cover her mouth. She was about to stomp on his foot when a commotion from the Hanged Man caught her attention. Several patrons ran out, stumbling on their feet. She heard glass breaking and silverware hitting the walls. Another drunkard stumbled out, cursing as a flying saucer – still full of the Hanged Man's signature stew – hit him in the head and splattered all over his clothes.

"Well, at least he works fast," Anders murmured in her ear. Cassara wriggled to get out of his hold. "Be still, lest someone sees us." He added something about her being impatient. That wasn't the problem. Being this close to him, feeling his breath on her ear, having his rough fingers pressed against her lips – everything made her somehow uncomfortable. She was suddenly aware of him in ways she hadn't been before. From the very start, the thought of pretending to be his lover didn't sit well with her. She'd been able to push through her hesitation, but being pressed up against him made doing so difficult now.

_It's too embarrassing_ – she mentally raged.

"Grab his arms! Hold 'im!" someone barked. _Now we wait for Aveline to show up with the Guard,_ she reasoned in an attempt to keep her thoughts on track.

"Oi! You knife-eared bastard! Cum'ere and I'll carve out those purty eyes o' yurs," someone slurred from behind the door. Some muffled words. More crashing. A man howled in pain, and Cassara winced. She could imagine all too well how cruel Fenris could be.

"Say that again, you drunken filth," Fenris's haughty voice argued. Anders chuckled.

_He has a nice laugh_ – Cassara thought, the observation popping out of nowhere. Angry with herself for losing focus to silly thoughts and entirely uncomfortable with being so close to him, Hawke clenched her teeth and followed through with her earlier plan of getting Anders to release her. Rearing back, she stomped on his foot. He yelped in surprise.

"What was'at?" one of the patrons standing outside asked. Footsteps shuffled towards them.

"Damn it, Hawke, what are you doing?" Anders cursed, wincing. Cassara felt her cheeks burn. Had she just ruined their plan?

"It's your fault," she hissed, pointing a finger at his chest. A woman screamed from inside the tavern. A sound resembling several bodies hitting solid surfaces distracted Hawke. Men shouted for assistance. _Maker, I hope he doesn't wreck the place…where is Aveline?_

"Get away from the edge, Hawke," Anders urged when she tried to get a closer look.

"Oi! Is someone there?" another voice asked, louder this time. She saw half a face appear from behind the crate before Anders grabbed a fistful of her skirt and pulled. He spun her around and pinned her against the stack of crates. The impact sent a twinge of pain up her bandaged arm. She heard him whisper an apology before his lips covered hers. Time stopped.

"Come out, you sodding bandits! I'll give ye what fer! I'm not afraid of – what the…?" the shouting drunkard stopped just short of running into them. Hawke's awareness of him dimmed by the second as Anders pressed himself closer and tighter against her. His broad back covered her from view. Slowly, her eyelids drooped. His lips felt softer than she expected. She'd always wondered if his stubble would feel as rough as it looked. As his chin rubbed against hers, she felt the right side of her body break out in goose bumps. His tongue, rough yet unbelievably soft, caressed her lower lip.

_What is the Maker's name is he doing?_ – she wondered, completely bewildered. _What __**am I doing**__? _– she asked herself as her arms came up to wrap around his neck. The moment her fingers tangled in his hair, she heard him groan – a sound that made something inside her belly clench with want. His hands dropped to her hips where he used a surprising amount of strength to lift her up and set her down so that she rested on his thigh. She gasped at the new contact. He took advantage by deepening their embrace even further.

"Anders, wait…" she breathed between hot kisses. "Wait…wait…"

"Impossible," he rasped against her ear. A large hand brushed against the swell of her breast, the other reaching around to loosen the ties of her corset.

_You can be such a bore sometimes - _ Isabella's voice rang in her ears. She'd once accused Hawke of being frigid because she never showed interest in taking part in casual dalliances with men. Back then, she hadn't been able to find the courage to say that the only one she truly wanted to be intimate with didn't want her in the same way. The notion that she was spending years of her youth waiting for Fenris to come around seemed like one that would make Isabella laugh. Hell, sometimes even Hawke wondered if she wasn't waiting for something that would never happen. They had yet to speak about their strange relationship, let alone indulge in any kind of intimacy. But, she wasn't a block of ice.

She'd told herself that she didn't need things like this, that indulging would just take her mind off what mattered most. The current situation, however, proved her wrong. She _did _need this. Anders' hands felt like magic. Each caress of his fingers, each stroke of his tongue on her lips, her neck, the soft part of her ear, made her shudder with need. The patron who'd nearly run into them had wandered off at some point, muttering something about getting a room. In the distance, she could still hear that Fenris was causing a ruckus at the tavern. She struggled to regain her composure as Anders blazed a hot trail of kisses down her chest, unlacing her corset. _How is he working through that so quickly with one hand?_

"We have to go…Fenris will be - "

"Don't say that _mongrel's_ name," the mage growled. With a rough jerk, he pulled open the back of her corset. The cool night breeze ghosted against her exposed chest. Not for long. She gasped as Anders' lips covered one breast. He pulled, teased, and suckled her, drawing her into a haze of euphoria that soon overrode her reason. Her hips shifted restlessly, the ache between her legs growing unbearable.

"Anders," she breathed.

"That's better," he whispered, nipping at her skin. She whimpered, the huskiness of his voice alluring beyond belief. "Good girl." Reaching under the numerous layers of her skirt, his fingers stroked the ache at the apex of her thighs. The sensation was so powerful that her nails dug into his shoulders. "Let me touch you," he murmured. Too long. It had been too long since anyone had touched her this way. Sure, there were some nights when she would allow herself to dream about what could be – what she desperately _wanted_ to be. But her own fingers couldn't compare to those of another.

"No…we shouldn't do this…the Guard will be here soon…" she murmured through shudders of pleasure.

"Hush, Cassara," Anders commanded, drowning out her protests with his lips. "For once, just let yourself live in the moment." In the end, a moment was all it took. With a few deft strokes of his wicked fingers, Hawke dropped over the edge into climax. He caught her ragged moan of rapture against his lips, supporting her limp body when she collapsed against him. As she shivered from the after-effects, he held her against him, stroking the nape of her neck. As though passing through a narrow sieve, her thoughts finally trickled back down into the realm of logic. Several emotions fought for dominance – shame, embarrassment, guilt.

"Anders, I…" She looked up to see that he was smiling. A sad, gentle, smile. "I don't know what to say…"

"It's alright," he reassured her. "We were caught in the moment." He kissed her forehead. "This won't mean more than you want it to." More than she wanted it to? Did things like this hold so little significance for him? Hawke cupped his face between her palms, searching his eyes for sincerity.

"You turned me away once," she accused. "All those years ago. Before…"

"Before Fenris, I know," he replied, covering one of her hands with his own. "Not much has changed. I'm still the same man – the same fugitive who cannot give you a future."

"I don't understand. If you think there can be nothing between us, why did you kiss me like that?" She swallowed past the lump in her throat. "Why did you hold me like that? Is this just a game to you? Were you just pretending?" Shame turned to anger. "I may be dressed like this, _serah_, but I am _not_ a whore to be toyed with on a whim."

Her words hurt him – she could tell. Not even his smile could buffer the raw emotion in her voice, the confusion there, the uncertainty. Without warning, the mask he wore fractured, allowing her to see a glimpse of the maelstrom that churned in his heart. His neutral expression crumpled. He pressed his forehead to hers and pulled on her hand until her fingers splayed against his chest. Even through his thick robes, she could feel his frenzied heartbeat.

"It's not like that. Things got out of hand. But, in the end, I held you like this because I care about you. I'm a _man_, Cass." Her heart clenched to hear him call her so intimately. "I'm not made of stone. I turned you away because I don't want to hurt you, but I cannot look at you without wanting to touch you, to be with you, to…_damn_ it…" He pushed away from her and looked above her head. Cassara heard a new set of sounds behind them and untangled herself from Anders. Clumsily, she pulled on the strings that held her corset together as she tried to see what was happening in the tavern now.

"By the order of the Guard Captain, we are here to arrest anyone caught disturbing the peace," a gruff voice announced. Hawke recognized the owner as Aveline's fiancé, Donic. At some point during their interlude, a group of ten or so guardsmen had marched into the Hanged Man. _Thank the Maker they're here…_she inwardly sighed.

"Cut that out! Get yer hands off me!" a man shouted. "It was th' damned elf, I tell you! He started it!" By the time Hawke straightened her clothing, several patrons had been escorted out of the tavern.

"Now is the time," Anders said. "We should go." Hawke tried to conjure up a mental image of what she was supposed to do now. She had to pretend to be a woman in love, to act like a fool – yet, as Anders took her hand and pulled her along behind him, she couldn't help thinking that she already had.

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"Very convincing get up," Varric nodded when he saw the two later. "I especially like the smeared lipstick on Blondie's cheek. Nice touch." The dwarf patted Anders on the back. Only Hawke knew that the smile the mage brandished in return was fake.

"Thanks, Varric. So, where do we go from here?"

"The Wounded Coast. Just have to wait for Aveline to get here," the dwarf replied.

Cassara looked around her at the cellar of the Hanged Man. Merrill was admiring the large casks of spirits that were stacked in neat rows in the back of the room. Fenris leaned against the wall in a corner, looking none the worse for wear. Apparently, he'd done all the damage to his partner in the brawl without taking any hits himself. He hadn't looked at her even once since they all met up – both a blessing and a point of annoyance. She was afraid that he would see right through her and know what she'd done with Anders, yet her subconscious sought his strength. A part of her felt cheap and dirty, much like the clothes she wore. Still another part insisted that she'd done nothing wrong.

"You don't look so good, Hawke. Are you feeling alright?" Varric queried, concerned. The moment he said that, Fenris's head swiveled around to finally look at her. The same concern was mirrored on his face. Anders stepped forward, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

"Was the corset too tight?" he asked casually. "Is it hurting your injuries?"

"I'll be fine as soon I get out of this ridiculous dress," she grumbled, hating the ease with which he masked his emotions. She ducked away from his hand.

"I can help," Merrill cut in, her voice shrill with excitement. "That is such a pretty dress. Is it very hard to take off?" Cassara couldn't stop the blush that stained her cheeks. She felt her face burning a bright crimson at the many implications such a question could raise. "I just said something very awkward, didn't I?"

Varric coughed. "There's a spare room. Your armor and weapons should be there." Too embarrassed to trust herself to speak, Hawke nodded and made a beeline for the direction the dwarf was pointing. Merrill followed, somewhat subdued. Once they were alone, Hawke sighed, relieved to be away from the rest of the group. The tension from the earlier events felt heavier than stones upon her shoulders.

"I'm sorry, _lethallan_," the petite elf apologized. "You know how I am with blurting out strange things." Cassara untied her cloak and threw it to the ground, turning to present the back of her corset to her friend.

"It's alright, Merrill. It's part of your charm."

"Really?" the elf asked, her voice hopeful as her fingers wrestled with the ties. She struggled for a few moments, remarking about strange knots and fastenings. Cassara stayed silent, her mind drifting back to the alley. _Yet, Anders untied it with one hand_.

"We do have some strange fashions, I'll give you that," she remarked.

"That lipstick on Anders' face," Merrill blurted out after a long pause.

"What about it?"

"It wasn't there as a disguise, was it?" When Hawke hesitated, she quickly went on to explain. "I don't think anyone else noticed. I won't tell anyone, _lethallan_. You are like my sister, and I just want you to be happy. I don't know what's going on between you and Fenris, but…"

"Nothing," Cassara offered. "That's the problem." Suddenly, the words were spilling out of her mouth before she could stop them. "I love him, Merrill. I love him very much. I dream about him, about a future by his side. But, all he can think about is his past and Danarius. There's no room for me in his heart."

"That's not true," Merrill predicted. "I see the way he looks at you. When you were injured, he refused to leave your side. The first few days were the worst, for all of us. Anders tried his best, but he was worried it wouldn't be enough. We were all very upset, but Fenris - I've never seen him like that before."

"Anyone would be upset to lose a friend, Merrill."

"No," the elf insisted, stepping in front of her. The girl's large eyes radiated sincerity and conviction. Cassara felt hope reaching out and grasping at her heart. "This is different, _lethallan_. He cares for you. As does Anders." At the mention of the mage, Cassara worried her lip. She stepped back and dropped onto a nearby stool, cradling her head between her hands.

"I don't know what I should do, Merrill. Even if what you say is true and Fenris does have feelings for me, he won't let me near enough to ask him. He pushes me away at every turn. And Anders…" A beat. "Anders says he cares, but in the same breath he tells me we don't have a future."

"Do _you_ care for Anders?"

"I…don't know. I thought I did once. He made it clear that we couldn't have anything. Then I met Fenris, and my world hasn't been the same since. I thought my feelings for Anders were buried, but after what he did today, I'm so confused." She groaned in frustration. "I hate this. I hate not knowing what to do."

"May I tell you what I think?" Merrill put both hands on Hawke's shoulders, urging her to look up. "I think that Fenris is proud and stubborn. He is a strong warrior, but he feels fear just like any other man. When you were dying, he showed that fear. He is so terrified of losing you that he is afraid to try and have you in the first place. And Anders…" she smiled, "Anders is also afraid. He has many secrets, and they burden him. Such things have a price. In his case, I believe he also cares for you more than anything. But, that spirit inside of him will always come between what he wants and what he feels is his justice. Whether you can accept that or not – that is your choice, _lethallan_."

Stunned by the clarity of the elf's advice, Cassara struggled to find the right words to say in reply. In the end, she just smiled. "When did you grow to be so wise, Merrill?" she joked. "Or maybe you always were. The Keeper wouldn't have chosen you as her First without good cause." Merrill covered her own smile with a hand, a blush staining her cheeks and darkening the _vallaslin _tattoos there.

"Oh my, I think I was rambling again." She tugged on Hawke's hand. "Let's get you changed. You look beautiful with all that makeup, _lethallan_, but I think I prefer the usual you."

"The usual me?" Cassara asked.

"You know, the scowling and frowning one."

"I _do not_ scowl!"


	5. Chapter 5

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**This story is being updated almost every day, so please make sure you are reading the correct chapter :) **

**Chapters 3 and 4 were posted less than a day ago. **

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**The Saarebas**

**Chapter ****5**

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"Are you sure this is the place, Hawke?" Varric inquired, holding his torch as high as possible to see their surroundings. The firelight bounced off the walls of the tunnel they'd been navigating for over an hour now. The specks of light illuminated an area that had an icy beauty. Moisture hung thick in the air, smelling faintly of the salt of the sea. An ocean breeze blew through sparse air vents, the howl eerie when coupled with the sound of dripping water. "Wish we hadn't come here at night. This place gives me the creeps."

"It's just a cave, Varric," Cassara asserted. "Nothing here but bats and some roaches. It's been abandoned for years."

"Now see, the last time you said that, we were in the Bone Pit and ended up fighting dragons," he maintained, swishing his torch about. _I rarely get to see Varric this nervous_ – Hawke mused.

"Oh put that thing away, already," Cassara appealed. "Torches are so inefficient. Here…" She formed a few runes in the air and touched the dragon's head on her staff. Immediately, the stone lit up with brilliant light, illuminating the cave around them as though the sun itself had risen. A familiar hand settled on her shoulder. Anders.

"Please don't cast, Hawke. You haven't recovered yet."

"Would you stop fussing over me like I'm made of Glitterdust?" she frowned.

"I'm actually surprised you're so energetic," Varric commented. "Anders said you wouldn't be awake for days yet…"

Hawke smiled wistfully. "My father had a lot of stamina for spells. Looks like I get it from him. I feel fine, and if I'm not casting, then what am I supposed to do?"

"Look pretty?" Varric volunteered. She smirked and bumped him on the shoulder with her hip.

"I must have put the fear of the Maker into you all while I was unconscious," she laughed. "I swear even _you've_ come to resemble a mother hen, Varric."

"You wound me, messere," he replied dramatically. "Is it wrong to worry for a friend?"

"I'm fine now. Anders has done an amazing job piecing me back together." She rolled her injured shoulder to test it. Unfortunately, her side still hurt. She couldn't lift her arm past a certain point, and that worried her. Should things get ugly here, she would need to cast. Some of the motions for her larger spells required more range than she currently possessed. Not to mention, she still tired easily. Things she would never admit, of course. Not after she saw how much of a scare she'd given her friends.

_Never again. I'll never make them worry so much ever again._

"There's a light up ahead," Fenris observed. Cassara's gaze followed his fingers where she could see a spec of something that resembled a camp fire. She smiled, excitement quickening her steps. Though the Qunari warrior they'd come to see had no name, she'd given him one – Kraz. Over the years, she'd kept in touch, sending him on small odd jobs where she needed muscle and was hesitant to involve her companions. The coin kept him loyal to her most days. He only ever declined a request if someone else's job offered a bigger reward. Imagining meeting him gave her a burst of energy. Could she really pull this off? If she had to admit, her plan sounded insane – even for her. Forging a relic of this magnitude would take a lot of time and money. Not to mention, there was no guarantee that Kraz would even agree to help her. Could she count on him? Could she believe that he'd left the Qun forever?

As they approached the camp fire, Cassara was disappointed to see that it looked abandoned. "Perhaps he stepped out," she offered, noting that supplies and various other things were scattered about.

"How do you step out in the middle of a tunnel?" Varric quipped. Fenris prodded the dying embers with the tip of his sword then crouched down. He picked up a handful of sand, allowing it to slide between his fingers.

"Something isn't right here," he cautioned. Cassara walked to him, hoping to give him more light. "Thank you, Hawke," the elf nodded. "These tracks are chaotic." He followed markings in the moist sand to a few satchels.

"Just like a dog," Hawke heard Anders whisper under his breath. She gave him a cold glare to let him see her displeasure. Behind her, Merrill finally spoke up as well.

"Give me a moment. I can see if there's anyone near." She raised her staff in the air and closed her eyes. After chanting a few words, a burst of energy spread out around her. "Oh my," she breathed.

"What is it, Merrill?" Cassara asked, a sudden chill raising the hairs on her nape. Was it the wind? Or could she blame this unease on something else?

"I…I'm not sure, but…"

"What's wrong, Daisy?" The air grew colder, the smell of death and decay wafting to Hawke's nose. Clarity and understanding rammed into her the moment she felt her hands begin to shake. She knew this feeling. Though she'd only been to the Deep Roads twice, she vowed never to forget the horrors she'd witnessed, or the feel of the creatures that made their home down there.

"Maker…everyone around me…now…" she commanded. They obeyed without hesitation, crowding around her with their backs touching, much like they'd done in the Keep facing the Qunari.

"It would help to know what we're up against," Anders complained.

"Darkspawn. Many of them." In the wake of Cassara's ominous revelation, the previously silent cave came to life. Shrieks and growls pierced the eerie quiet, the sounds echoing off the walls. Hawke clenched the staff in her hand until her knuckles turned white.

"I suppose it's safe to make the assumption that our contact is dead," Anders concluded. Hawke tried not think about that possibility. Kraz was her last hope for forging the relic. She had to believe that he'd gotten away somehow. He was no novice warrior and had faced many difficult battles in the past.

"Orders, Hawke?" Varric demanded. "What's our plan here?" That's right. Her friends were counting on her quick decisiveness right now. She needed to focus. Cassara's eyes flew around her surroundings, searching for advantages and possible obstacles they might face. This was the worst possible place for an ambush. The walls of the cave would force spells to ricochet and if the battle grew in volume, they risked a rockslide.

"Merrill, Anders – no large area spells. Look at the walls. Too much force and we'll be buried." The two nodded. "Aveline, if you see something trying to interrupt our casting, prioritize that. Andraste help us if there's an ogre here." The Guard Captain gestured her understanding and agreement. "They'll have at least a few archers. We'll take care of those with magic. Fenris, keep the melee fighters engaged while we do."

"Understood."

"Varric?"

"Yes, Hawke?"

"Make sure Bianca doesn't overheat this time." He recognized the humor in the order and chuckled. Pulling the enormous weapon in front of him, he readied a bolt.

"No problem."

As they waited for their attackers to appear, Hawke felt tension eating away at her sanity. Eventually, she saw the Darkspawn's swaying torches and lit arrows appear around the next bend in the tunnel. _Come on, you bastards. I've been itching for a fight._ The moment the creatures spotted them, they gave howls of rage. The sounds echoed as before, full of blood lust and murderous intent. In moments, all of them charged down the path. Their archers remained behind, preparing to shoot towards their position around the camp fire. Seeing this, Hawke began to chant a barrier into existence.

_Wall – solid and unyielding – shield us from harm. Extend your arms and shelter us. Harden and become as stone. No arrow shall pass, no blade shall cut, no spell shall hit… _

The sand around the companions started to float and whirl with the force of the barrier. Soon, it looked like a tempest surrounded the six figures at the center. When Cassara opened her eyes, they glowed a faint silver. The drain was immediate and nearly devastating. _Anders wasn't kidding_ – she thought. Determined not to let it affect her focus, Hawke gripped her staff even tighter. She pulled on the power of the mana runes socketed there, praying that the boost would be enough.

"Go," she ordered. "The barrier will follow you." Never one to hesitate when a command was given, Fenris lunged forward, followed closely by Aveline. Their battle cries and the pained shrieks of their victims rang out soon after. Satisfied that the spell would hold, Hawke focused her attention on the archers. Arrows rained down on them, smacking against the barrier and bouncing off. _I need to take them out in one go – _she decided. "Merrill, I know you just recently learned the spell, but we're going to need water – lots of it. Especially over the archers."

"My aim is not that good yet, but I'll try."

"You can do it. I know you can," Hawke assured her. _You must. _As the elf hurried to do as she was asked, Hawke began to summon chain lightning. Her vision scattered across the battle, eyes seeking out Fenris and Aveline. Not a difficult task, considering that Fenris's markings lit up a large area around him. She saw Aveline shield bash a Hurlock that got too close to the elf's side. The blow made the creature twist in mid-blow, Aveline's sheer physical power enough to fling him several feet away. _They'll be fine_ – she assured herself and continued to cast.

_Lightning – true and strong – follow my will. Bend, twist, break. Follow me as I guide you to my enemy's hearts. Grow, chain together, stay as a line, pass through their bodies and melt their bones! _

"Now?" Merrill shouted over the sounds of battle. Hawke nodded. Torrents of gushing water materialized out of the ground. The elf's spell had sucked up all the moisture from the sand and the air around them, making the ground crack and turn brittle. She moved her arms and dropped her burden on top of the archers. They shrieked in panic, but Hawke didn't give them a chance to scatter. Just as the water hit them, she threw her arms forward and unleashed the lightning in her palms. It zigzagged through the melee fighters, leaving them stunned but unharmed. The moment it reached the archers, the bolts exploded with a deafening bang. Just as she predicted, the water amplified the effect. The force that hit the archers threw them up into the air and blasted them to pieces. Limbs and bits of flesh sprayed everywhere, coating the walls in thick slime. Hawke swayed on her feet, feeling a headache coming on.

"Good job, Merrill! That was brilliant," she announced, breathless. The elf smiled and began to cast another spell. Hawke's confidence withered when the walls rumbled. "Oh no…" Had her spell been too forceful? Had she weakened the integrity of the tunnel?

"Ogre!" Aveline shouted. Hawke wiped a trail of sweat from her brow, wondering which was worse - one of those or a rock slide. She grimaced when she saw the thing charging out from the bend. The creature was trussed up in pieces of armor. Its massive horns were adorned with sharp spikes that were no doubt meant for impaling its prey. With each roar, thick saliva dripped from its misshapen fangs. Its breath was so hot that each time it exhaled, steam wafted from its nose and jaws. Fortunately, most of the Darkspawn had been felled, leaving the ogre as the final obstacle to victory. Anders had a way with fireballs and Merrill's nature and spirit spells had made short work of any stragglers.

Aveline and Fenris rolled out of the way of the ogre's first lunge. As it recovered, Varric hurled a rain of bolts on top of it. It tried to block the projectiles with its arm and back. The action ensured that none of the bolts hit its heart – an ogre's ultimate weakness. The majority of the projectiles bounced off its armor. Aveline tried to take advantage of the distraction, throwing herself forward in an attempt to slice as its leg. It howled in pain when her longsword dug into its tendons. Unfortunately, the strike was too deep. Aveline grunted as she tried to pry her blade loose of the creature's corded muscles.

"Aveline, move!" Anders shouted. Thanks to her quick reflexes, the warrior managed to bring up her shield to defend herself. Too late, however. The ogre backhanded her and, being at least three times her size, sent her flying nearly a hundred yards away. Her body left a long trail in the brittle sand. Hawke's barrier held. From where she stood, she thought she saw it absorb the brunt of the blow, but she couldn't be sure. Aveline's hefty tower shield had a colossal dent in it. Terror for her friend made her heart drop into her stomach.

"Get to her, Anders," she ordered.

"I'm on it," he replied. Hawke turned back to the ogre. Fenris was alone against the monster now, and she feared for him. She wasn't sure how many more spells she could handle. Mentally, she ran over the tricks in her arsenal. Force magic seemed to be the most reliable. Anything else could hit Fenris, and without much mana left to speak of she wasn't sure she could shape her blasts to avoid him.

"What should I do?" Merrill asked.

"Boil its blood," Cassara answered, her voice low with anger. Without skipping a beat, Merrill withdrew a small knife from her belt pouch and slashed open her palm. Normally, Hawke hated it when her friend resorted to blood magic. This time, she hardly cared. Her friends' safety took top priority for her. While the elf worked on her spell, Cassara reached deep into her reserves and began to chant her own. Throwing down her staff, she widened her stance and began to gather force between her palms.

_Restrain, immobilize, become my hands, become my fingers, my strength, my will…_

She imagined the force taking the shape of enormous gauntlets that would hold back the ogre's arms. As she focused, she heard the ogre howl in agony. _Good job, Merrill_. _Now just hold him a second longer_. Reaching through the Fade, she pulled back more and more force until the mental image of what she needed looked clear. Envisioning her spell restraining her target, she finished the chant for it out loud and unleashed the power she'd gathered. Unexpectedly, the gauntlets actually manifested. Twin, blue, balls of searing Fade flames appeared around the ogre, twisting and shaping into fingers that wrapped around its limbs. _Maybe I can push it further_ – she thought, excited. _Yes! I can! If I just feed it a bit more mana…_Using her hands as the channeling medium, she opened and closed her fingers, marveling as the ethereal gauntlets mimicked the movements.

"Get ready, Fenris!" she shouted as elation filled her. So much power. Such strength. Such limitless potential. Pulling back, she laughed as the ogre flailed against her superior might. She crucified him, pulling back on its arms until she could hear bone and tissue popping. The motion forced it to bend its torso forward, exposing its delicate heart. Fenris took a few steps back then ran forward and jumped. He flipped as he flew through the air, graceful as an eagle in flight. Letting out a rending battle cry, he sank his greatsword into the monster's chest. No howling. No screeching. Only a dying gurgle as the enormous thing keeled over and dropped dead to the ground. For good measure, Fenris twisted the blade, ensuring that the heart was severed.

An unnatural silence settled over the cave once more. Some distance away, Hawke saw Aveline get to her feet, looking shaken but otherwise unharmed. She glanced at Merrill, who was using the small healing spell she'd picked up to stitch together the gash on her hand. Fenris sheathed his blade and looked around, clearly still on edge. Behind her, she heard Varric reloading Bianca. Hawke waited a few moments before releasing the barrier spell around her friends. The moment it dissipated, she felt as though a hammer hit her in the back of the head.

"Looks like they're gone," Varric ventured. "A small group, but I'll be damned if I didn't almost soil myself when I saw that ogre running towards us." He shouldered his weapon and looked up at her. "Hey, Hawke, you alright?"

She nodded. "Fine. Just a bit tired." Bending down to him, she lowered her voice. "Don't tell the others, please. We really need to focus on finding Kraz."

"Kraz? Your pet has a name?" he retorted. She smirked as the company regrouped.

"I can't believe it," Aveline shook her head. "Darkspawn on the coast. We've seen some near Sundermount, but this is the first time they've come so close to the city. Our patrols will have to be more cautious."

"Did anyone get hit?" Hawke asked. They all shook their heads.

"That barrier really saved us," Aveline claimed. "I'm guessing that was your handiwork with the ogre?"

"I'm curious, too," Merrill concurred. "I've never seen a spell like that."

Cassara rubbed her temples, trying to push her headache aside and focus on the conversation at hand. "I don't think it was a spell. I've been working on mastering force magic. I tried altering the normal shape of the blast."

"It was useful," Fenris declared. "I would have had more trouble reaching its heart if it had control of its arms." Their conversation was interrupted by a sudden noise. All six companions whirled around, drawing their weapons. What they saw made Hawke's blood run cold. The wall near the place where she'd cast her chain lightning had a few cracks in it.

_Oh, Maker, no…please no…_ Yet, even as she chanted this in her mind, she saw the cracks widening. The roof began to crumble. Her mind raced with possibilities. She had to think of a solution. Something. Anything. _Come on, Hawke! Think! Think!_ As the cracks began to grow into the ceiling, large chunks of rock began to break off the from the whole. Any moment now, the entire roof of the tunnel would collapse on top of them. She turned her head, seeing the fear on her friends' faces. This was her fault. If they died here, only she would be responsible. In that moment, her decision was made.

"Run," she commanded. "Everyone, get as far back into the tunnel as you can!" With that, she dashed forward. Throwing her staff aside, she began to gather pockets of force in her palms. As though from a great distance, she heard her heartbeat thundering in her chest. The wall needed support, so she would give it everything she had. She ran as far away from her friends as she could before larger chunks of the ceiling began to give way.

"Hawke! Come back!" Cassara turned around and saw that her companions were running after her. _No!_ Holding out a hand, she sent a pulse of energy towards them. The force sent them flying backwards away from the debris. Unable to spend even a moment considering if they had gotten the message, she looked up. Pointing her hands towards the largest of the boulders falling from above, she threw all the energy she'd gathered against it. The pain in her head intensified until she thought her skull would split open.

_Please…please hold…at least until the others can get away..._

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Fenris managed to dodge the ball of force that felled his companions. He watched them roll away, each cursing Hawke in their own fashion. As the whole cavern shook with the rockslide that was rending it apart, his vision narrowed on their leader. Their leader – who stood amidst the chaos and tried to hold up the ceiling to give her friends a chance to get to safety. He didn't have much time to ponder the insanity of her actions. As more and more rocks rained down upon them, he was forced to roll and jump out of the way to avoid being hit.

Against all odds, Hawke managed to secure a larger portion of the roof. But, from where he stood, he could see that the strain of holding the spell was immense. He looked once at his friends then back at Hawke and knew where he should be. As he ran towards her, he heard the others calling for him to return. _Not before I save her_ – he vowed. As more and more debris fell from the ceiling, he watched his path towards his friends being covered up with enormous boulders.

"Hawke!" he called. "Hawke, let it go!" As he reached her, he saw that the situation was dire. Hawke had turned white as a sheet, her skin nearly grey. Her arms literally shook as she struggled to hold the ceiling together. Brows furrowed, eyes glowing silver, and hair swaying with the magic around her, she was a picture of determination. Dimly, he recalled Anders warning her not to cast spells in her condition. He walked up to her, tried to stand in front of her to get her attention. "Let it go," he demanded.

"No…" she bit out through clenched teeth. "Get away…Fenris, please…"

"I will not."

"You'll die!"

"No one will die today. Let it go, and I will take us from this place." At last, her gaze met his. Agony was written there – the same stubborn pride that he'd fallen in love with. Seeing her like this, struggling against destiny – denying fate itself – made him understand that nothing and no one would ever stop this woman from doing what she believed to be right. That immunity from control, that strength and perseverance, made him feel inferior somehow. He wished he had even a little of that strength – that power that she gifted all those who followed her. Looking at her unshakable resolve made him feel unworthy of her – made him feel foolish for even dreaming that he might possess her love someday.

She radiated a power that he knew he should despise. Among her noble ideals and everything that made her who she was, there was one brand that she would never be able to escape. She was a mage. The power that ran through her veins marked her as his natural enemy, but the compassion, kindness, and loyalty that made up her character proved her to be everything he wanted in a life partner. She tore her eyes away from him, shutting them as the pain of holding onto the spell wracked her body. A scream rose from her throat, the sound leaving him shaken.

"Let it go, damn it!" he shouted. When that had no effect, he cursed.

"Just a little more…" he heard her mumble. He looked up to see that she'd maneuvered a few stones around to wedge them in the widest cracks in the walls. Somehow, the shaking began to lessen. Her eyes opened. Fenris panicked when he saw how dilated her pupils were. "Not enough…not enough mana…" Understanding dawned on him. He brought his arm up in front of his face, thinking back to all the times that Danarius had used him and his markings for this very purpose. The memories brought a storm of outrage and disgust. But…

_She needs me. _

He ripped off the gauntlet from his right hand and stepped closer to Hawke. "Take it," he directed. Her eyes snapped first to his hand then to his face. There was nothing fake about the hesitation there.

"No! Absolutely not! I would rather _die_ than use you like that," she groaned. One of the rocks that she'd wedged into place crumbled from the pressure. The earth shook with a colossal tremor, nearly making them both lose their footing. With a pained grunt, she pushed harder. A trickle of blood dripped from her nose.

"And I would rather die than lose you again," he avowed with just as much conviction. Without waiting for agreement, he cupped the side of her face. The markings on his hand came to life, a conflagration of brilliant blue. He winced. His skin felt as though it caught fire. He expected to feel revulsion. But, the moment that the pain began, he saw that the markings were working as intended. Some color returned to Hawke's face. She stood up straighter and made another push. The rocks above shifted and swayed, smaller debris gathering together to close the gaps in the ceiling. As she did the impossible and forced the rock slide to a halt, he felt no disgust – only pride. Pride that this woman stood as the exception to all mages he had ever known.

"I can't believe it. It's over…" she breathed, swaying on her feet. "I'm so sorry, Fenris…" He caught her against him as she fell forward in a dead faint. Bringing her up into a firmer hold, he looked around. The tunnel was completely sealed off behind him, and there was no way to tell if their friends had survived the disaster. He hoped they had. At the very least, they had a way to return to the city. He glanced towards the other end of the tunnel, the place where the group of Darkspawn had come from, and wondered where it led and how long it would take for them to make it out. For all he knew, the tunnel stretched ahead for days or weeks. At best, they could find their way out. At worst, they would wander aimlessly until Darkspawn or starvation felled them.

Hawke startled him when she stirred in his arms. He looked down to find her brilliant blue eyes watching him. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"I will be, thanks to you."

"_Festis bei umo canavarum_," he murmured with a rueful smile. Hawke blinked at him, clearly confused. Feeling a rush of tenderness towards her, he brought her closer and pressed his forehead against hers. "It means, you will be the death of me." She worried her bottom lip, her eyes skittering away from his.

"I'm sorry, Fenris. Your markings…" When she attempted to get free of his hold, he jostled her.

"Be still and rest a moment. As for my markings," he shrugged, "nothing can be done about them now. The past is in the past."

"But, Fenris…"

"No. Say nothing else about this, Hawke. They saved us. As did you. I regret nothing. There is no need to discuss the issue further." An awkward silence stretched between them before he spoke again. "The other end of the tunnel is sealed off. It looks like we are trapped on our own."

"I hope the others are alright," she remarked.

"We'll have to believe that they managed to avoid the rubble. You certainly afforded them more than ample opportunity."

"What was that?" Hawke asked suddenly, squirming to turn to look behind him. He moved to face the bend in the tunnel, catching sight of a flickering light. "Maker, not more Darkspawn," she prayed. Fenris squinted to try and see through the dust that still hung heavy in the air. A large, hulking, silhouette appeared. Hawke gasped, nearly making him jump out of his skin.

"Kraz!" she shouted, waving her hand at the figure. The creature paused then quickened its pace, appearing out of the dust like a spectre. His grey skin made him difficult to make out in the dim light of the cavern, the color so smooth that he looked to be made of stone himself. Fenris raised a brow in surprise. That this creature had survived the Darkspawn attack was a miracle.

"_Saarebas?_" the Quanri said as he approached them. His arms were soiled to the elbow in black blood, as was the pole arm he carried. In his free hand, he gripped a Hurlock head. "You are here, and you were not killed by the creatures. Interesting." As he reached them, he tossed the head to the ground. He glanced at Fenris. As was true for most of his kind, the Qunari's face remained unreadable, his features set in stone. The warrior rested his pole arm on his shoulder. "Are you injured?" he asked Hawke. "It seems that something caused the cavern to collapse."

"I'm glad you're alright. We thought the Darkspawn had given you some trouble," Hawke confessed. He shook his head, his eyes settling on Fenris once again. The elf returned the Qunari's gaze evenly.

"_Saarebas, _is this your _Basvaarad_?" he inquired. _Handler_. Fenris was familiar with the concept. No mage could be unchained or unsupervised by Qunari custom.

"No. I have no _Basvaarad or Arvaarad _who controls me," she replied.

"Then you are leaderless and unchained. A dangerous thing for a _Saarebas_." Hawke tilted her head to the side.

"I thought you'd left the Qun, Kraz. Do you still hold to its beliefs that mages must be enslaved and controlled?" The warrior seemed to ponder this for a moment.

"No. I do not. Though I do believe that all _Saarebas_ are dangerous without a handler." He pointed to her. "You are not just _Saarebas_, however. You are…different. There is no chain around your neck, yet you still seem to have a purpose. Tell me, what do you need of me?"

"_Parshaara_, Kraz," Fenris interrupted. "Before the discussion proceeds, I must request that we find a safer place to talk." Kraz glared down at him.

"Do not call me by that name, _Basra. _Only this _Saarebas _may do so. As for this," he pointed towards the bend in the passage. "The tunnel ahead is clear of Darkspawn for some distance. We may make camp here."

"There must be an exit up ahead," Fenris theorized. "Otherwise, the Darkspawn wouldn't have been able to enter."

The Qunari nodded. "There is one exit, but it leads to a Tal-Vashoth camp."

"Can we make a fire?" Hawke asked. Fenris felt her shiver. "Is the sea close by? The tide doesn't come in this far, does it?"

"The sea is far enough. Some water does come in, but not often."

"Then we make camp," Fenris decided.

"We should look for the exit," Hawke countered.

"No. You need to rest before we go any further."

"I'm fine, Fenris."

"No. You are not. We make camp. End of discussion."

"Do not think to order me around like a scullery maid," she challenged.

"If I were to let go right now, you would fall. Even if you could somehow stand, you couldn't walk. If you did manage a slow gate, you could not cast even a simple light spell. As it stands, you will only be a burden to us. I will not see you put us all in danger simply because you are too stubborn to spend a few hours recovering." When she opened her mouth to argue, he glared down at her. "I also have ways of making sure that you don't move or speak for the next several hours. As you are currently helpless, I don't think you are in any position to argue with this logic." She let out a sigh and muttered something about overbearing elves. She did stop squirming, though – something he saw as a sign of her reluctant agreement to his terms.

With Kraz's assistance, they made camp. Starting a fire took longer than usual as they had little to work with. By the time the pair of warriors nurtured a solid flame, Hawke was shivering violently, her hands cold as ice. She was still too drained to move around. The moment Fenris was satisfied that nothing more needed to be done, he sat down and pulled her into her arms, hoping that their combined body heat would help her stay warm. He wondered if the faint blush on her cheeks was a result of their proximity or a response to the heat of the fire.

Fenris tried to keep his mind from straying to thoughts about how her nearness made _him_ feel. They were rarely forced to be in such close quarters. He'd often tried to imagine what it would feel like to hold her thus. Such fantasies always led to one conclusion – frustration. He couldn't imagine that a woman like her would ever want to be with someone of his caliber. A runaway slave with no past, no present, and a questionable future. Surely, she deserved better than anything he could give. That didn't stop him from dreaming, however. As dire as the current situation was, he allowed himself to enjoy having her so near. He found himself thinking back to their conversations in his mansion. A few times, she'd hinted that she was interested in him. _Flirtation isn't confirmation of anything_ – he decided, his thoughts taking a dark turn.

"Kraz, since we're going to be here for some time, we should discuss why I was looking for you in the first place," Hawke proposed, snapping him out of his reverie.

"I am listening, _Saarebas_," the warrior answered, tending to the fire with his blade.

"I need your help forging a Qunari relic – a book, to be more specific."

"The Tome of Koslun," he offered, surprising Fenris with his insight.

"Yes."

"Impossible," he concluded. "Though, it is not my place to question your endeavors."

"I believe it can be done, but only with your assistance. Can you lend it to me, or will this conflict with your beliefs?"

"There can be no such conflict."

"Good, then let's discuss how we're going to begin. Once we get out of here, that is."

"You are being hunted by my kind," he continued as though she hadn't spoken.

"Yes."

"They say you dishonored yourself by involving an outsider in a duel with the Arishok."

"That is the general consensus, yes."

"Is it the truth or merely opinion?"

She gave a small sigh. "Someone did interfere, but not by my will or choice. The Arishok fell to my spell. No one else's. It is true that I killed him. It is also true that someone interfered before I could stop them."

"I have known you for some years, _Saarebas_, and I know you are not so weak that you would need to do something so foolish. This is the reason I will help you."

"Thank you, Kraz. I am honored that you would think this way."

"Do not thank me yet, _Saarebas _Hawke."

She glanced around the camp site. "I don't think it's safe for you to stay here. We don't currently have a stable place for me to live, either, but would you come with us? It will be better if we stay together."

Kraz nodded. "I have no attachment to this place." Fenris wondered about Kraz's reasons for leaving the Qun. Not Qunari and not Tal-Vashoth. What was he, then? For the time being, he had no choice but to put his trust in this rugged creature. It wasn't something he would have done had Hawke not trusted him first.

"We have to find our way out first," Hawke emphasized. "You said the exit led to a Tal-Vashoth camp. I would rather not fight them, but at the moment it doesn't look like we have much choice." She paused. "I'll ask you for the last time, Kraz. Are you sure you won't hesitate to fight your own kind?"

"They are not my kind, _Saarebas_," the warrior decreed as he continued to prod the flames.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **

If statistics are to be believed, then it seems that there's at least 40ish people that have been steadily reading my story since I published it a few days ago. This is truly incredible. Although I haven't gotten many reviews, just the thought that so many have seen my writing and have enjoyed my story enough to keep reading it warms my heart and inspires me to continue. Thank you, everyone!

* * *

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**The Saarebas**

**Chapter 6**

**.**

* * *

_The moment Cassara opened her eyes, she knew she was dreaming. The camp fire Fenris and Kraz had built was lifeless, the coals gasping their last. The darkness in the tunnel around her felt more sinister – more tangible – as though it had a mind of its own. As she stood, she thought she could hear the shadows whispering and recoiled. This was the Fade. She was fortunate that she rarely got to experience dreams this vivid. Typically, her sleep was cold and empty. Her father had taught her early on that sleep made a mage vulnerable to possession. One of the first things he'd taught her was how to avoid dreaming altogether. _

_**Yet, here I am now…what provoked this?**__– Cassara thought, concerned. Wary and on edge, she prowled around the small camp, noting that Fenris's sword lay abandoned near the place where she awakened. Kraz was nowhere in sight, either. She tried calling for them despite knowing that it would do no good. Taking a deep breath, she tried to let go of the fear of being left alone and attempted to replace it with steady logic and reason. _

_When Cassara next opened her eyes, she saw that the campfire had roared to life. Fenris's sword remained. She walked to it and picked it up, holding it close. It was so heavy that she struggled to hold onto it, marveling how Fenris managed to wield it with ease in battle. The thought of the strength he needed to do so, the control and discipline, made her smile. __**Somehow, I feel less lonely.**_ _Deciding that there had to be a reason for this dream, she set out to explore her surroundings, greatsword in tow. _

_As she stepped away from the fire, however, a hunger unlike anything she'd ever felt assailed her. She tried to find her staff, only to recall that she'd dropped it during the rock slide. Remembering the disaster brought about new concerns. Were her friends alright? Had they made it out safely? Everything was her fault. If only she had used more control with her spells, then all of them would be here with her now. Flinching against the cold air of the tunnel, Cassara felt her earlier focus fading. She stared into the never-ending abyss before her and wondered – __**What if we never make it out of here? What if we are trapped here? We have no supplies and no way to find food or water. We'll die here… **_

"_This is why I told you that you're too stubborn, sister," a voice insisted from behind her. Cassara turned around and saw Carver, dressed in full Templar regalia, leaning against the cavern wall. A smug smile played upon his lips. _

"_Carver, is that really you?" she asked. _

"_Of course it's me. Who else would it be? It's not like you have any family left aside from your embarrassment of a brother. Bethany and Mother are dead. You couldn't save them." More than anything, she wanted to doubt his existence – wanted to keep calm and remember that this was just a dream. But, the look on his face pierced her resolve._

"_You're not an embarrassment…" she argued. "I've always been proud of you." _

"_Have you? Then tell me why you drove me out. Tell me why you didn't stop your friends from chasing me away." He crossed his arms over his chest, a gesture she knew all too well. It was a sure sign that he was more upset than he was letting on. When they were children, he always sulked just like this. The memory tugged at her heart strings. Images of the last time they'd spoken – the night in Fenris's mansion – circulated in her mind. _

"_I didn't mean to drive you away, Carver. You're my brother." _

"_I'm your brother when it's convenient for you. Now that I'm a Templar, I'm just a bother." _

"_That's not true. I still don't understand why you made the choice to join the Templars, but you never tried to explain your reasoning to me." He showed her his back. "Please don't go, Carver. Don't turn away from me. Talk to me…"she begged, growing more desperate._

"_We never did anything together," he complained. "When we were kids, Father was always off training with you and Bethany. I was unwanted. The plain son who had no magic or any talents to speak of."_

"_That's not true," she insisted, stepping closer to him and grabbing him by the shoulders. He refused to look at her. _

"_Then name one time when Father didn't favor you and your magic," he spat. "Name __**one time**__." Cassara, desperate to soothe his ire, dug through memories she hadn't dared to touch in years. Remembering her old life in Lothering always brought about too much anger and sadness. This was important, though. She __**needed**__ to make him understand. _

"_Did you forget all those times father took us hunting?" she ventured. Carver maintained his mutinous silence. "You can't have forgotten. Bethany didn't want to go, but you and I were always together with him. He taught us how to use a bow and make traps, how to survive in the Wilds." _

"_You're just making that up." _

"_No! I'm not!" Cassara insisted. "Think about it, Carver. Remember how we hunted that stag across the plains? I was so jealous when you brought it down with your bow. There was nothing I wanted more than to show you how much better I was." She swallowed past a knot of emotion. Remembering that day – and the beautiful, white, stag – was painful. Back then, she'd wanted to let the creature go. But, she struggled with her rivalry with Carver. Just as she wanted the stag to live, she wanted to be the one to bring it to Father. In those days, she lived for his words of praise. _

_Caver shook his head in denial. "No. Show me. Prove it." _

"_I can't," she countered, frowning. "Right now, we have to focus on getting out of this tunnel. There could be more Darkspawn around the corner." Hawke squeezed Fenris's sword closer to her chest, willing it to give her strength. "And…the others are waiting. Fenris needs his sword back…" _

"_What tunnel?" he asked, eyes wide. "We're in a forest." He pointed behind her. Cassara turned around and gasped. The bleak passage had disappeared, giving way to a lush forest. She immediately recognized it as the one she'd hunted in with her father as a child. Instead of vast darkness, sunlight lit up the greens and browns of trees and shrubs. She shifted her feet, feeling grass and pine instead of dirt and mud stir beneath her toes. _

"_How is this possible…?" she breathed. _

"_Come on," Carver urged, grabbing her hand. He looked much younger now and no longer wore his Templar armor. Instead, he held a bow – one she recognized as the first he'd made himself. He'd been so proud to carve his initials into the grip. "Show me where this stag is." Excitement laced his words – a childish innocence that she missed. In that moment, she realized just how much the past several years had changed them both. Without the extra lines around his eyes and the dark circles under them, Carver looked happy again. Subconsciously, she touched her own face, wondering how many lines the trials of the years had etched into her skin._

"_Stop frowning before you make your wrinkles worse…" someone whispered. Something tugged on her shoulder, beckoning her to turn around. As she did, blue eyes met amber gold. Anders stood there, dressed in the same finery he'd worn the night they snuck into the Hanged Man. His hair was tied back lazily, bangs falling forward in the way she'd come to love. _

"_If anyone has wrinkles, it's you, Anders," Cassara heard herself respond. The words rang of familiarity. _

"_Who is that?" Carver demanded. "Is that another __**mage**__?" He emphasized the last word, lacing it with disgust. "Is he going to take you to the Circle?" _

"_No, he's…he's…" Cassara found herself unable to continue, as though something constricted her throat. Anders moved towards her until he stood so close that she had to look up to see his face. _

"_Cass, you should come back," he smiled. _

"_Why does he get to call you that?" Carver demanded, outraged. _

"_Come back," Anders continued, ignoring her brother's displeasure. "Don't you remember what your father taught you about this? About the Fade?" _

_**When you are in the Fade, believe nothing. Everything is a lie. Do not trust your eyes or the whispers of your heart – **__her father had told her. _

"_I know what he is!" Carver shouted. "He's an abomination! An abomination!" Her brother ran up to her and pulled on her elbow. "Get away from him," he sneered, the expression looking very alien on his childish face. "He'll turn on you and your friends. In the end, he'll abandon you. You'll be left all alone." Carver's shouts rose in volume until his word echoed, rebounding off the barriers of the forest. Each accusation was a thorn in her heart. She looked up at Anders and tried to cover her ears. Knowing that this wasn't real didn't lessen the pain of seeing it. _

"_Is that what you think, Cass? That I'll betray you?" He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "You know how I feel about you. I could never do such a thing." His amber eyes glowed with sincerity. She trembled as he leaned in even closer. Any moment now, their lips would touch. Just like before, she would be swept away and act the fool. As her eyelids began to droop down, she thought – __**Just for a moment…**_

_A loud clanging cut through her weakness as a knife through butter. She gasped as Fenris's sword dropped from her hold, the sound of it hitting the ground so overwhelming that she flinched. Cassara watched it bounce and land some distance away. As ludicrous as the notion was, she felt that the sword was rejecting her. __**That's right…I don't have time for flights of fancy.**_

"_Leave it," Anders commanded. _

"_I can't," she whispered, her heart heavy. "Fenris needs it to fight. I have to give it back to him." _

"_Forget about him," Anders insisted. "Look at me, Cass. I need you just as much." _

"_No, you don't understand. He __**needs**__ the sword." Cassara pushed his hands aside. "He can't fight without it." She straightened her back, feeling her confidence return. "I have to protect him. I promised I would. Just like I'll protect my family, you, and everyone else in Kirkwall." Without waiting for him to reply, she ran towards Fenris's sword and picked it up. As she did so, an icy wind blew against her back. She hunched her shoulders instinctively. _

"_But who will protect __**you**__?" an unfamiliar voice questioned._

* * *

.

.

Cassara jerked awake with a gasp. She shuddered, swearing that she could still feel the cold wind on her back. The strange voice from her dream echoed in her mind, asking a question to which she had no answer. Feeling drained and weak, she glanced around the camp. When she initially didn't see her companions, she panicked.

_Am I dreaming again?_

Desperate to find out, she scrambled to her feet. The camp fire blazed merrily. No sign of Fenris's blade. Cassara let out a pent up breath. This was more realistic, at least. Fenris would never go anywhere without his weapon. It was almost as though the sword was a part of him. She had yet to see him without it, even at home. Her Qunari companion's weapon was absent as well, Cassara noted.

_They probably went to scout the area with Kraz – _she reasoned. _I must have been asleep for a while._ Cassara rubbed the remainder of exhaustion from her eyes. As she brushed dirt off her herself, she noticed that some moisture from the ground had soaked through her leather tunic and breeches on one side. _Might as well make use of the others being gone._ Hawke had never been a stickler for modesty. Despite knowing the others might return at any moment, she reasoned that wearing wet clothes and risking illness were not acceptable alternatives to someone catching a glimpse of her smallclothes.

As she peeled off the wet layers, she found herself mulling over the events of her dream. The things she saw still made her uncomfortable. She recognized the dream for what it was – whisperings of her desires and various regrets that clashed with her pride. Though she hadn't seen any demons directly this time, she would have to be more cautious from now on. It wouldn't do to place herself in the path of demons and temptation more times than necessary. She'd been strong enough to resist, but no one could ever guarantee that willpower alone could defeat a determined demon on his own turf.

Cassara laid her armor and breeches out by the fire to dry, grateful for the warmth it provided. As time passed by, she wondered how they would get through this tunnel without food. All of their supplies had been either buried under the rubble of the rock slide or were left with her friends on the other side. The tunnel itself was so closed off that Hawke doubted any animals made their way down here. Not to mention, any that had were probably already slaughtered by the Darkspawn. _At least I can summon water._ Perhaps that would buy them a few days to get to the surface. Surely there were side passages that Kraz didn't know about.

"Hawke?" Fenris's voice startled her out of her reverie. She turned to see him standing a short distance away. Behind him, Kraz hulked like a glowering gargoyle, his face – as always – devoid of any expression. A pregnant pause stretched between them before Cassara saw Fenris's cheeks turn a faint pink. His eyes roamed over her, reminding her that she _was_ nearly naked.

"It's not polite to stare, Fenris," she chided, attempting to hide the unexpected embarrassment she felt.

"I…that is…why are you dressed like that?" he coughed.

"You mean, why I am _not_ dressed?" she teased. He jerked his head in a stiff nod, blatantly looking away as he approached the fire. "Well, my clothes are soaking wet, and the last thing we need is for me to catch a cold." Hawke glanced at Fenris's bare feet. "I don't have the resilience of _some_," she joked. He looked towards her drying armor.

"I see."

"Did you go to scout the area?" she asked, directing her question to Kraz. The towering Qunari didn't seem affected at all by the situation. As he stepped into the light, she saw that he was carrying something large on his shoulder.

"We were fortunate," the warrior answered in a monotone. "Originally, we went to scout for a side passage, but we found this instead." Kraz let the thing slide out of his hold. As it fell to the ground, Hawke felt her breath constrict. A stag with fur as white as snow lay dead at her feet, its eyes glazed over in death. It looked just like the one from her dream – the stag that she'd hunted with Carver.

"What is it, Hawke? You look like you've seen a ghost," Fenris noted. She glanced in his direction, unsure of how she should explain her distress. "We also found this," he boasted, holding up a bow. "Found it on a dead elven hunter. Looks like the poor man was ambushed by the same Darkspawn we killed earlier." If possible, Hawke felt her heart drop even farther into her gut. The bow Carver had made in his youth wasn't anything special. She knew that there were probably hundreds identical to it. But, as Fenris gave it to her for inspection, she saw that it had a marking on the grip – a faded burn mark in the shape of the letter "C".

"Did _you_ kill the stag?" she faltered, breathless. Fenris looked confused at the question, but replied nevertheless.

"No. I believe Darkspawn caught the hunter while he was hunting it. I don't blame him for taking the risk instead of hiding. Seeing any kind of animal down here must have seemed like a miracle."

"You're sure he was elven?"

Fenris nodded in confirmation. "Dalish, by the look of the markings on his face."

"The meat is untainted," Kraz added. "It should be sufficient for some time."

"When I saw the bow, I thought we should take it with us. Though, I've only used one on rare occasions, and our friend here," he gestured to Kraz, "…insists he will break it if he tries."

"That shaped twig thing is not a bow," Kraz claimed. Fenris snorted. Normally, seeing Fenris in good spirits would have raised her own. But this coincidence unnerved her so much that she was left speechless. "Have you recovered your strength?" Fenris inquired.

_My silence is probably making him uneasy_ – Hawke decided. _I can't tell him – _she lamented as she saw the concern on his face. _I'm not sure I'm ready to believe this myself. It __**must**_ _be a coincidence._ Steadying herself, Hawke plastered a smile on her face, determined not to burden her companions with her concerns.

"Yes, I have. I can also use a bow," she revealed.

"You can?" Fenris echoed, surprised. She chuckled.

"Believe it or not, I can use most martial weapons like swords and daggers. Father taught all of us when we were children. He didn't want us to depend on our magic for all things."

"A wise man," Fenris surmised.

"Seeing as my staff is probably in pieces under those boulders, I'll need a weapon." She tested the string. "Thank you, Fenris." He gave a curt nod and looked away again, crouching by the stag.

"We should start skinning it."

"I can help with that, too," she chimed in, padding over to her armor. "Let me just put my clothes back on. Looks like they're mostly dry now."

"That's probably a good idea," Fenris agreed, clearing his throat.

* * *

.

.

"That is the worst idea I've ever heard," Varric accused, slamming his broad fist down on the table before him. "You can't tell me that's the best we've got."

"I'm sorry if you don't agree, Varric, but it's the only way. What are you more concerned about? The tavern or Hawke?"

"Don't you _dare_, Blondie," the dwarf cautioned, pointing a stubby finger at Anders. Merrill sighed, weary of the argument. The two had been going at it for over an hour.

"No, Varric, don't _you_ dare tell me what I can and cannot do. There's no guarantee that this will affect the Hanged Man, but there _is_ a guarantee that this will save Hawke's life."

"No, there isn't."

"Fenris is with her," Aveline reminded them. "Surely that counts for something."

"What good is Fenris if she's injured? He has no healing magic." The mage backed away from where he leaned against the table in the center of Varric's chambers and walked to a wall. He smacked his fist against the wood, leaning his forehead to it. "We don't even know if she's alive. How could anyone survive that rockslide?"

"This is Hawke we're talking about," Aveline countered. "The woman who has saved us countless times and who had led us through worse scrapes." Merrill watched Anders carefully, her large eyes missing nothing. They all looked terrible. Covered in blood, dust, and mud, the four of them had only recently emerged from the collapsed tunnels under the Hanged Man. Immediately, they began to try to figure out how to rescue their friends – a plan that had yet to be agreed upon. Anders proposed raiding Qunari encampment to steal some explosive powder. They could then use it to attempt to clear the collapse. Varric argued that they didn't know how powerful the compound was – that if they weren't careful, they could collapse the foundations to this portion of the city.

The dwarf sat down and rubbed his chin. "She wouldn't want us to endanger people in the city. Think about how many could be hurt if the ground collapses."

"As Captain of the Guard, I can't allow this, either," Aveline decreed. "We have to think of another way."

"What other way is there?" Anders ground out. "We can't even ask for assistance because everyone we know has put a price on Hawke's head."

"May I say something?" Merrill requested. Three heads turned to her. She cringed, never enjoying being put on the spot for any reason. "I believe we should wait. Hawke and Fenris will find their way out." Anders looked furious at her suggestion.

"Are you saying we should just sit here? It could take them _days_ or longer to find their way out, assuming they aren't dead already."

"They aren't," Merrill assured them. "I know they aren't. I can't explain it, but," she pressed a hand to her chest. "I can feel it."

"Blood mage's intuition?" Anders sneered.

"A sister's, if you must call it anything." She took a small breath to strengthen her resolve. "And no, I don't think we should just sit here. We _could _continue where we left off. We could go to Hawke's estate and try to find the research plans and money that she stored away." She pointed at a nearby stool. "Aren't the maps for the estate in your satchel, Anders? I saw Hawke giving them to you for safekeeping."

Varric whistled. "You don't miss a beat, do you, Daisy? And here I thought you spent most of your time daydreaming."

"I do," she replied with a smile.

"That's a great idea, Merrill," Aveline extolled. The others seemed to agree, their faces brightening considerably. "Since the estate _does_ belong to the Hawke family, there is nothing in the rulebooks that will prevent me from hiring some guardsmen to confiscate property stolen by looters and thieves."

_So that's what she was worried about – _Merrill thought. Aveline always tried to remain on the legal side of things, even if she did make a few exceptions when it came to Hawke.

"It's settled, then," Varric announced. The shadows on his face cleared up somewhat now that he had a definitive plan of action. Though the dwarf would never openly admit it, he worried for Hawke just as much as the others and felt helpless when he couldn't be directly involved in situations like this one. Anders reached into his satchel and pulled out some crumpled papers, laying them out on the table.

"I hope no blood got on these," he muttered. They first examined what looked like a set of detailed schematics for the Hawke Estate.

"What's this?" Aveline pointed out, tracing a thin line on the page with her finger.

"Looks like it's a passage from the Docks," Varric proposed. "I don't remember seeing anything like it there, though. Then again, the Qunari were camped there for so long that nobody really knew half of what was there."

"We should take a look," Anders concluded.

"That area will be crawling with Qunari," Aveline reasoned.

"I know something that can help us pass through unseen," the mage asserted. After further discussion, the party agreed on Merrill's idea and planned to meet the next evening. Merrill never took her eyes off of Anders. She had a sense that he wasn't telling the party everything. The two had never really gotten along, but she respected him because Hawke did. As everyone stood up and prepared to leave, she caught the edge of his sleeve, beckoning him to stay behind after the others left.

"Anders…"

"What is it?" he asked, sounding less than enthusiastic to be left alone in her company.

"I wanted to ask you something."

"Get to it quickly. I have things to do." When she hesitated, he frowned. "If it's about Hawke, I may or may not want to duck out of this conversation."

"It is and it isn't," she floundered, unsure of where to begin. He sighed. "I know it's not really any of my business, but…what are your intentions towards - "

"You're right, Merrill," he cut in. "That isn't any of your business."

"I know," she said quickly. "I know, Anders, and I'm sorry about asking. I'm just worried about her."

"You don't need to be worried," he decreed, his eyes softening. For a moment, she thought he looked pained. "I don't know what she told you, but there's nothing between us."

"That doesn't seem like the whole truth," Merrill maintained. "I can see you're in pain, and I…I just want to help. I know you and I haven't always seen eye to eye…"

He made a sound of amusement. "We've _never_ seen eye to eye."

"Please believe me when I say that I want to help. I'm not much good at these things, or a lot of things, really…but I do love Hawke, and I want to help her…"

"You're rambling, Merrill," Anders scolded. Being on the spot like this felt overwhelming. She felt the words that she'd wanted to say fade away, as though her nervousness strangled them out of her. Unexpectedly, Anders' features relaxed. He put a hand on her shoulder. "I understand that your intentions are good. You want what's best for Hawke. In that sense, you and I are very much alike."

"Then…"

"I love her, Merrill. Is that what you wanted me to say? I love her so much that I feel I might be losing my grip on what should matter most. My clinic has been reduced to shambles, I have nowhere to rest my head, and the spirit within me rages more and more every day about the injustice done to mages. Yet, all I can think about is whether Hawke is safe. All I can do is think about how to help her. I would drown myself and this city in blood if it meant that I could save her." His voice lowered to a whisper. "If it meant that I could have her."

The power in his confession scared her – not because he sounded like a desperate man on the edge of doing something crazy, but because she knew that she would help him do it if it meant that her sister could find happiness. She longed to be able to feel such passion for anything. _What about Fenris?_ – her logic demanded. _This man, Anders, is bad for her. Surely you can see that. _

"Anders," she began. "You know that this city means the world to Hawke. Don't you think she would be sad if something happened to it?"

"A part of me knows that," he confessed. "But another part…" Anders trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid. She didn't push him farther, already marveling at the fact that he'd opened up to her at all.

"I won't tell anyone," she vowed. "About what you said. I know it must have been hard to speak so openly about something so personal." He gave a curt nod and picked up his satchel, prepared to leave. "What about this plan to get us by unseen at the Docks," she continued, determined not to let him slip away without gaining more information. "Is it magic of some kind?"

"It is," he replied. "It's a spell I picked up during my travels with the Grey Wardens."

"What kind of spell?" she asked.

"The kind nobody will like. It's a form of blood magic, and I'll need time to prepare." He turned away and began to climb the stairs to the Hanged Man's cellar. Merrill couldn't resist adding one final word of advice, hoping that at least a part of him would hear her.

"You have a choice, Anders. We always have a choice."

"I wish I could believe that," she heard him whisper.


	7. Chapter 7

**The Saarebas**

**Chapter 7**

* * *

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In the dead of night, a group of four Qunari crept through their old compound in the Docks. Despite their size, their feet made no sound. Armed with various weapons and laden with satchels, they looked like they were prepared for a lengthy expedition. The Qunari at the head of the group paused periodically, signaling for the others to tread carefully. To an outsider, they would not have looked out of place. Since the Qunari attack on Kirkwall, stray members of their kind wandered the streets of the city searching to find the one who had slain their Arishok in dishonor. To a fellow Qunari, however, this group would have looked suspicious, for each one – down to their horns – looked identical.

"This is incredible," one of the Qunari gushed up in a whisper. The voice that it spoke with was entirely out of place, for not only was it small and gentle, but it belonged to a female.

"Hush, Merrill," another of the Qunari commanded, once again in another female's voice.

"She's right though," the third agreed in a gruff, rumbling, baritone. "I have to admit that it feels odd being this tall."

"It's just an illusion, Varric," the fourth – their leader – countered. "Don't go getting a big head."

"Too late, Anders," Merrill intoned. "I think all of us are very impressed with your trick." Her face scrunched up into an expression of excitement.

"Please don't make that face," the second female voice pleaded. "Stop smiling and, for Maker's sake, stop giggling. The way a Qunari looks while doing those things is…disturbing."

"Loosen up, Aveline," Varric teased and looked at their leader. "Blondie, you've outdone yourself this time. Wherever did you learn how to pull a stunt like this?"

"Had a friend in the Grey Wardens who taught me," Anders answered. "Though she was much better at it than I will ever be."

"I've never seen magic like this," Merrill said thoughtfully.

"As far as I know, her magic was the rare sort. She tried to teach me a few things, but I can only manage this much. Had she been here, she could have changed our voices, too."

"So where is this supposed passage?" Varric queried. Qunari Anders motioned for them to follow, taking a map out of the satchel on his side. They passed through streets littered with trash and debris. Nobody had bothered to clean the area since the invasion a few weeks ago. The buildup consisted of a mixture of broken objects and garbage. Occasional rain had washed a slough of mysterious liquid into the streets. From what they could gather, it was a mixture of waste, blood, and _Gaatlock_ powder left over from the attack.

The Docks reeked of stagnant salt water and rotting fish. No new ships were docked at port. Trade and travel had ceased almost overnight. News of the attack had spread, and merchants wanted nothing to do with the crisis in Kirkwall. Varric proposed that until the problems with the Qunari settled down, the city would suffer from a lack of incoming supplies and goods. The only ships that remained were old fishing vessels that had cargo rotting on board. The fishermen who had manned them were now in hiding along with many other citizens. No one knew what would trigger the wrath of the Qunari, and nobody wanted to risk finding out. The smell was heavy enough to make Merrill's stomach roil in protest. _It'll be a while before I can have fish again_ – she reflected.

After some trekking through said waste covered streets, Anders led his companions to an inconspicuous alley hidden behind a large pile of crates. The four friends slipped through the narrow space between the wood and found themselves standing in front of a rusted door. The metal that composed it had long ago given into old age. Whatever hinges had held it together had been eroded away, leaving the structure lopsided. Anders unstrapped the staff from his back and cast a light spell.

The magic illuminated some of the area past the lopsided door, but didn't give enough visibility to assure the mage that it was safe to open it. Knowing that there was no room for hesitation now, he motioned for Aveline to assist him in pushing open the damaged structure. By pressing their shoulders against the metal and bracing their feet on nearby crates, they managed to pry the door open enough to allow the others to squeeze through. As they entered the passage that was marked on Hawke's map, they were greeted with a surprising sight.

"This place is cleaner than the streets," Merrill commented, pointing to the interior. Anders' spell gave the place a blue glow. They all noticed the lack of waste and litter.

"I don't think anyone has been down here for some time," Anders explained. Varric startled them all when he sneezed, kicking up a cloud of dust.

"Looks like it used to be a market of some kind," the dwarf pointed out, rubbing his nose. "See those stalls over there? Looks like this might have been a check-in point for trading ships at the Docks."

"Let's keep moving," Anders urged. "It's still a long way to the Estate." His magic lit up lengthy and narrow passages with a green glow. The pulsing light cast shadows on the walls and surrounding objects, giving them a life of their own. The group followed the winding corridors with caution, expecting to encounter resistance at every turn. They climbed a plethora of stairs, passed countless crossroads, and even had to crawl in some places. To their surprise, they found their trip uneventful. It seemed that, just like Anders proposed, this particular passage had been abandoned for many years.

"I think that was the calmest night patrol I've experienced since I became Guard Captain," Aveline concluded as they crawled out of a circular opening that resembled a sewer grate.

"According to the map, we should bump right into - "

"Look, Anders, a door!" Merrill shouted, pointing to a structure hidden under an overhang. Cobwebs littered the surface, reminding all the companions of dangerous hikes on the Wounded Coast with Hawke and the giant spiders that terrorized the areas there.

"I suppose this leads to the Estate cellars," Anders deduced.

"Let's hope there's still something left to loot," Varric smirked, rubbing his hands together. The companions grouped around Anders, glancing at the maps in his hands.

"What are we even looking for?" Aveline inquired.

"A safe, hidden in the cellars."

"Isn't there a locking mechanism on something like that?" Merrill posed.

"Nothing like that can stop _me_," Varric bragged. "Just watch, those materials will be ours before the night is through."

* * *

.

.

.

"Grip it harder," Fenris instructed as he covered Hawke's hands with his own. "If you don't have a strong enough grip, it will be easy to disarm you."

"I know that," Hawke countered through gritted teeth. They'd been training for hours now to pass the time until dawn and her patience was wearing thin. Fenris was an unforgiving teacher. Unlike her father, who always gave her and Carver a chance to rest between sparring, Fenris forced her to continue no matter how tired she was. Each of his blows was executed with enough force to shake her entire upper body – he held back enough to stop from tearing her in half, but that's it. Up until tonight, she'd been pretty confident in her martial sword skills. Fighting Fenris once had been more than enough to prove her wrong.

"If you know that, then why do you continue to grip it so?"

_Because I'm tired!_ – she wanted to shout, glancing at her shaking hands. He looked at her expectantly, as though he was honestly confused. Hawke felt her anger dissipate. That look on his face was somehow charming, and if she could step back from emotion and think about things rationally, she could see that he was honestly concerned about her. They'd started these lessons shortly after he and Kraz had found the stag in the caves. _It's been about three days – _she reflected. Her eyes moved to the ceiling of the tunnel. _Are we ever going to find our way out?_

"If the blade is too heavy for you, then you need only shift your grip higher and the weight will lessen," Fenris went on to explain, apparently oblivious to the fact that Hawke's mind was wandering. Her gaze snapped back to him, a sheepish expression on her face.

"I'm sorry, Fenris," she apologized. "I was just thinking about how we were going to get out of here." His face was unreadable, but she could feel the waves of irritation coming off of him. Cassara realized how ungrateful she must seem, losing focus while he was giving his best effort to help her. _And I was the one that suggested we practice…_ "Truly, I really am sorry. I'm not sure how I lost focus. It won't happen again."

"You believe that this is a game, don't you?"

"Pardon?"

"A game, Hawke," he repeated, kicking at the dirt. "That's what you believe this is. You think that because you have magic you do not need these skills."

"That's not – "

"Let's try it, then. You and me. Your _magic_ against my blade."

"Wait, what?"

"You heard me, Hawke. A duel. My sword and your _spells_," he echoed, lacing the final word with dripping venom. His hate for magic had not diminished, Cassara realized with some bitterness. _And why should it? Do mages lend themselves to love and respect for turning to blood magic every chance they get? _No arguing with that, but…_What about me? I wish he wouldn't look at __**me**__ with those eyes – _she thought, flinching away from the burning hatred in Fenris's emerald orbs.

"I don't know about this, Fenris. Anders isn't here to patch you up if…" He smirked – an expression full of self-confidence and bitter humor. Seeing that – seeing him doubting her skill – irritated her in a way that was far from subtle. "What?" she demanded, raising her chin a notch. "You want to fight me? Then let's fight," she bit out. Cassara expected him to say something derogatory about mages again and tensed. Even though she understood his hatred, she could not come to terms with it when he turned it her way. Determined not to let him make her feel guilty about her powers, she squared her shoulders and glared at him.

"You accept that challenge so lightly, Hawke. Are you not underestimating my abilities?"

"Backing out, Fenris?" she challenged, walking over to the tunnel wall and picking up a staff she'd managed to carve out of a bit of wood they'd come across during their trek. It wasn't nearly as useful as the one she'd purchased from Kirkwall, but it would provide the focus she needed for some of her smaller spells. In reply to Cassara's daring question, Fenris tugged his weapon off his shoulder, burying it in the muddy soil. The lyrium markings on his skin lit up brilliantly, silver hair swaying in a nonexistent breeze. In the span of a second, his eyes had gone from teasing to serious – jade stones that radiated deadly concentration. "Good," she concluded with a grin. They took a few steps back from each other.

"Go ahead, Hawke," he dared. "I'll give you enough time to cast before I attack."

"I don't need any favors, Fenris," she growled, her temper piqued.

"That's all mages ever need," he retorted. "Favors and blind obedience." Cassara's mood spiked. If she'd doubted that this was an argument before, she had no questions that this is where it was headed now. Somehow, they'd jumped straight from civility to barely veiled hostility. She'd only seen him so angry once before – right after the death of Hadriana. What had triggered this? Cassara didn't have much time to ponder it, for before she could try to sort out what had tipped Fenris's scales, he was charging straight for her.

Suddenly, Hawke came to a realization. How would she hit him with spells without hurting him? No time to think it through. As he rushed her, she jumped out of the way, charging a weak fireball. Before he got too far, he jumped up and flipped through the air until he turned around and rushed her from the other side. The fireball in her hand sputtered and died, replaced instead with a barrier spell that surrounded her entire form. Just in time, for his greatsword sliced down on top of her right at that second. Had the barrier been weaker, the blow would have decapitated her. Fenris either noticed this or didn't – she couldn't tell _what_ was going through his mind when he wore his veneer of calm. Either he really wasn't bothered with the fact that he'd nearly killed her or he was doing a very good job hiding it.

"This isn't a game, _mage_," he hissed, confirming her suspicions.

_He's serious…I can't afford not to be…_With that decision made, she imagined a whirlpool of energy swirling between her hands and twisted her torso, shooting it out towards her opponent. The force collided with Fenris's chest; she heard the _whoosh_ of breath leaving his lungs with the strength of the blow. He staggered back. She used the pause to gather more force around her then brought her fingers to her forehead.

_Force, energy, power, raw strength – use my mind, be my focus, pull on my resolve. Send all back, knock all away, blow all asunder – become my will! _

The tunnel echoed with a deafening clap that resembled thunder as Hawke unleashed a powerful mind blast. The spell knocked Fenris back several yards this time, but he managed to dig his greatsword into the ground and absorb most of the force using the markings on his skin. This gave her pause. Normal enemies would have gone flying, possibly dying if they crashed into a nearby barrier hard enough. But not Fenris. As she watched him regain his footing and run towards her, she felt a quake of uncertainty. Gritting her teeth against a sudden surge of adrenaline, Cassara circled her hand through the air and placed a glyph of paralysis around her opponent. The ground lit up in a brilliant green glow, but Fenris was too quick. He saw what she was planning and jumped over the glyph, his momentum so great that he run some of the way along the wall before resuming his normal course. The same thing happened with crushing prison. He recognized the hand gestures for the spell with ease even though she chanted the words in her head.

He tilted back his head and screamed soundlessly, unleashing the magic in his skin. The pulse went out in a large circle, smacking into her barrier and stirring her blood. He'd never used it against her before. Now she knew why he was so careful with how he placed it. Cassara watched him charge towards her, unable to move. All she could manage was to struggle against the stunning pulse of his markings, writhing desperately to move out of the way. As he ran, he gained momentum until even his blade seemed to glow his trademark azure blue. Hawke took one breath, then two, until she could feel her fingers again. No time for a chant. This had to be quick.

_And something he's never seen before..._

Blowing on her fingertips to infuse them with mana, she drew a single, large, rune in the air. Imagining it to be as sticky as glue and viscous as molasses, she drew back her hand and pushed forward, hurtling the symbol towards Fenris's feet. As it landed, it grew and became a bundle of thorns made of pure force – a spell she'd imagined herself but was still struggling to master. As the thorns grew upwards, she heard Fenris mutter a curse in Tevinter. Confident that she had the advantage for the moment, she began to mentally chant a spell for a wall of flames.

_Wall that shall not be broken, stone that shall not be doused, flames that will be unbroken, fire that cannot be put out – grow, bend, become as unyielding as rock – surround my enemy, encircle his anger, outmaneuver his hate, trap him, ensnare him – become his new prison until my bidding is done! _

As Fenris struggled to free himself from the thorns around his legs, a circle of fire surrounded him. Blazing, orange fire rose up to ensnare and cut him off from his charge. Cassara squinted to see him through the flames, making sure they wouldn't burn the elf to a crisp. Inside, she saw him struggle to find an exit. _Not this time, Fenris - _she gloated inwardly. Hawke was so confident in the strength of her spell that she lowered her staff and stepped closer. Within the inferno, she saw him still flailing around in an attempt to free himself. "Fenris, do you admit defeat?" she asked, a smile playing on her lips.

Silence.

"Fenris?"

Cassara heard him growl out something in Tevinter a split second before he leaped out of the flames. Eyes blazing, markings glowing, and sword at the ready – the sight was terrifying to behold. For a moment, Hawke knew how her enemies must feel and flinched, still believing that he would stop before the critical moment. Contrary to her expectations, he did not. Instead of pausing his strike at a safe distance, he barreled right through her, knocking her to the ground and pressing his blade against her throat. She felt her head hit the ground hard; her vision went black for a moment. Controlled by survival instinct, Cassara pushed at him with pure mana, gaining enough leverage to get the blade away from her neck. Her sight returned, and Cassara gasped when she saw how close Fenris's face was to her own.

"Your magic is useless here, _mage_," he growled. "Your strength cannot match my own. If I wanted to, I could slit your throat from ear to ear." His eyes darkened, a glint of madness giving them a dangerous edge. She saw him lift his hand; felt her breath catch when the claws lit up blue. She'd witnessed him do this to many an enemy right before –

She screamed – screamed loud – when Fenris's hand slipped into her chest. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes at the agony of him digging – _rummaging_ – around until the claws of his gauntlet brushed against her heart. "Fenris," she gasped. "Fenris, stop…please…" He replied in Tevinter, muttering phrases she had no hope of understanding. She did know one thing, though. Something she'd done had brought up terrible memories and had pushed him over the edge. "I'm so…rry…" she breathed, unable to summon even a shred of her voice as he squeezed her heart. But, what hurt much more than the pain he inflicted was seeing him lost to his own agony like this.

"What will you do now, _mage_? Resist me, stop me from tearing you apart, show me how your _magic_ will save you now!"

Cassara closed her eyes and stopped fighting, knowing that resistance would only earn more opposition from him in this state. So, she completely quit her struggles. Instead, she reached up with her free hand and tangled her fingers in his silver hair, wishing desperately that she could soothe him somehow. The anger and fury in his eyes burned her worse than any flame, not because he threw it at her without reservation but because the source of it was a _mage_ like her. She blamed herself a thousand times over for agreeing to this stupid duel against her better judgment. More than anyone, she knew how sensitive Fenris was to magic being thrown his way.

_But, I'd hoped that he saw me differently…that I was special somehow…I suppose I'm just a fool. Perhaps I would even deserve to have my heart ripped out for my stupidity. But..._

Using whatever strength she had left, she pulled him towards her and covered his lips with her own. He tried to jerk away, muttering something else in Tevinter right before she pulled him back. For what seemed like an endless moment, he did nothing. Then, whatever fury held him in its sway seemed to tangibly snap. The shadows in his eyes retreated, as did the hand that squeezed her heart. He seemed to understand the full extent of his actions. Cassara _saw _that understanding as though it was a part of her own emotions – felt it enter his soul and linger there as though the same regret darkened the doorstep of her own thoughts and feelings.

"I'm sorry…I - " he tried to apologize as he pulled away again, but she refused to allow it. She grabbed onto the front of his armor and held fast.

"You don't have to be sorry, Fenris…you don't have to leave…" When he attempted another escape, she pulled harder. Their lips molded together once more. A century passed before his eyelids drooped down and he returned her kiss. Cassara expected some hesitation. This was the first time they'd taken their relationship to such a level. She foresaw that he might flinch away, that he might try to bring his hatred for her kind into the equation or even use his past as an excuse to keep his distance from her. What she did _not_ expect was the unbridled passion with witch he claimed her lips.

His mouth felt hot against hers, his hands leaving trails of fire wherever they passed. Lips, tongue, hands, and fingers devoured her rationale until she felt that she'd cast a wall of flames around them both. She'd been waiting so long for this moment that Cassara thought she might die happy right now and have no regrets. Slowly, languidly, Fenris pulled back to capture her gaze. His eyes bore questions she had no answers to, confusion that she had no comfort for save one.

"It's alright, Fenris," Cassara murmured. "Don't stop." She brushed hair away from his face, her breath hitching in her throat when he shivered at her touch. Was he averse to it? Or did he gain pleasure from this closeness? She desperately yearned to understand. His eyes roamed downwards to her chest, where only moments ago he'd been close to tearing out her heart. She saw the realization in his gaze – the acknowledgement of the danger he'd put her in – and grabbed his shoulder, afraid he would leave because he blamed himself. "Don't go," she pleaded in a voice she hardly recognized for its desperate quality.

"I've hurt you…" he countered, his voice gruff with emotion. "Hawke…_Cassara_…" Her name sounded like velvet when he shaped it so. She shivered, marveling how a few syllables could caress her ears with such sweet delicacy. "Command me to go…order me to step away from you and I shall…"

"I will not," she insisted. "I would sooner have you crush my heart."

"Then I cannot leave…I cannot control this…_my_…desire for you."

"Come closer, Fenris…please…" He obeyed and with a sound that reminded her of a feral tiger, he rolled over her and tore at the neckline of her armor. "Say my name again," she commanded.

"Hawke…"

"Wrong," she scolded. "You said it earlier. Say it again." When he hesitated, she pushed against his chest and rolled until she was on top of him. Leaning down, she nibbled on his earlobe, reveling in the shudder that ran through him at the contact.

"Cassara," he whispered right next to her ear.

"Again."

"Cassara…" he growled when her kisses trailed down the side of his neck. "We aren't alone," Fenris protested when she began to strip him of his armor. Somewhere distant in her thoughts, she remembered their companion Kraz and the fact that he should be returning to camp in a few hours after scouting. Returning Fenris's frown with a teasing smile she whispered:

"I don't care."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:**

To help keep the dynamic of the last chapter flowing (since it's been a little bit since my last update), I've added a small bit of the ending of the last chapter to the beginning of this one. So, please don't be confused. You are on the latest chapter ^_^

Once again, thank you to everyone who has written a review and added my Dragon Age stories to their alerts and favorites!

* * *

**The Saarebas**

**Chapter 8**

* * *

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.

Cassara closed her eyes and stopped fighting, knowing that resistance would only earn more opposition from him in this state. So, she completely quit her struggles. Instead, she reached up with her free hand and tangled her fingers in his silver hair, wishing desperately that she could soothe him somehow. The anger and fury in his eyes burned her worse than any flame, not because he threw it at her without reservation but because the source of it was a _mage_ like her. She blamed herself a thousand times over for agreeing to this stupid duel against her better judgment. More than anyone, she knew how sensitive Fenris was to magic being thrown his way.

_But, I'd hoped that he saw me differently…that I was special somehow…I suppose I'm just a fool. Perhaps I would even deserve to have my heart ripped out for my stupidity. But..._

Using whatever strength she had left, she pulled him towards her and covered his lips with her own. He tried to jerk away, muttering something else in Tevinter right before she pulled him back. For what seemed like an endless moment, he did nothing. Then, whatever fury held him in its sway seemed to tangibly snap. The shadows in his eyes retreated, as did the hand that squeezed her heart. He seemed to understand the full extent of his actions. Cassara _saw _that understanding as though it was a part of her own emotions – felt it enter his soul and linger there as though the same regret darkened the doorstep of her own thoughts and feelings.

"I'm sorry…I - " he tried to apologize as he pulled away again, but she refused to allow it. She grabbed onto the front of his armor and held fast.

"You don't have to be sorry, Fenris…you don't have to leave…" When he attempted another escape, she pulled harder. Their lips molded together once more. A century passed before his eyelids drooped down and he returned her kiss. Cassara expected some hesitation. This was the first time they'd taken their relationship to such a level. She foresaw that he might flinch away, that he might try to bring his hatred for her kind into the equation or even use his past as an excuse to keep his distance from her. What she did _not_ expect was the unbridled passion with which he claimed her lips.

His mouth felt hot against hers, his hands leaving trails of fire wherever they passed. Lips, tongue, hands, and fingers devoured her rationale until she felt that she'd cast a wall of flames around them both. She'd been waiting so long for this moment that Cassara thought she might die happy right now and have no regrets. Slowly, languidly, Fenris pulled back to capture her gaze. His eyes bore questions she had no answers to, confusion that she had no comfort for save one.

"It's alright, Fenris," Cassara murmured. "Don't stop." She brushed hair away from his face, her breath hitching in her throat when he shivered at her touch. Was he averse to it? Or did he gain pleasure from this closeness? She desperately yearned to understand. His eyes roamed downwards to her chest, where only moments ago he'd been close to tearing out her heart. She saw the realization in his gaze – the acknowledgement of the danger he'd put her in – and grabbed his shoulder, afraid he would leave because he blamed himself. "Don't go," she pleaded in a voice she hardly recognized for its desperate quality.

"I've hurt you…" he countered, his voice gruff with emotion. "Hawke…_Cassara_…" Her name sounded like velvet when he shaped it so. She shivered, marveling how a few syllables could caress her ears with such sweet delicacy. "Command me to go…order me to step away from you and I shall…"

"I will not," she insisted. "I would sooner have you crush my heart."

"Then I cannot leave…I cannot control this…_my_…desire for you."

"Come closer, Fenris…please…" He obeyed and with a sound that reminded her of a feral tiger, he rolled over her and tore at the neckline of her armor. "Say my name again," she commanded.

"Hawke…"

"Wrong," she scolded. "You said it earlier. Say it again." When he hesitated, she pushed against his chest and rolled until she was on top of him. Leaning down, she nibbled on his earlobe, reveling in the shudder that ran through him at the contact.

"Cassara," he whispered right next to her ear.

"Again."

"Cassara…" he growled when her kisses trailed down the side of his neck. "We aren't alone," Fenris protested when she began to strip him of his armor. Somewhere distant in her thoughts, she remembered their companion Kraz and the fact that he should be returning to camp in a few hours after scouting. Returning Fenris's frown with a teasing smile she whispered:

"I don't care."

Her declaration hung between them, the only tangible substance coloring the heavy silence of their surroundings. In his eyes, she saw confusion, doubt, and hesitation. _Careful, Cassara – _instinct warned. Before her – beneath her – Fenris resembled a wild beast ready to bolt. The slightest wrong movement, the slightest sound, the slightest wrong turn in their conversation would spook him – perhaps chasing away a rare opportunity that would never come around again. What should she do? How could she convince him to stay? What was the next step in reassuring him? For a moment, she teetered on the same brink of doubt that threatened to tear Fenris away from her.

_**Fenris is proud and stubborn**__…_Merrill's voice suddenly echoed in her thoughts. _**He is a strong warrior, but he feels fear just like any other man. **_Cassara hovered on the brink. Behind her lay safety, comfort, a gilded cage. If she stepped back now, her friendship with Fenris could still be salvaged. They could pretend this never happened; they could go on as before. Before her lay a vast nothingness – an open space full of chaos and uncertainty. If she leapt from the edge, she would fall into the abyss with no wings to steady her. What awaited there? Rejection? Acceptance? More hurt? Heartbreak? Something whispered – _completion_. Something else warned – _ruin. _Could she risk losing Fenris even as a friend?

_**He is so terrified of losing you that he is afraid to try and have you in the first place…**_

"Don't be afraid…" The words slipped and tumbled from her lips before she could stop them. Cassara couldn't read the emotion that filled his gaze in reaction to her reassurances – didn't have the time to consider the consequences of syllables spoken in haste. If she didn't do something, he would slip away._ I am just as terrified as he is_ – she reflected. _No more. _She let go of that terror, allowing the tension to slip from her muscles with a sigh. As though liberated from tangible chains, she slid forward and fell on top of him with her full weight, pinning him in place. As she jumped over the brink, she felt weightlessness assail her – felt butterflies in her stomach. _Catch me…I beg you...catch me…_

One kiss. Two. A hundred. It didn't matter. None of it was enough. No amount of proximity could slake her thirst – her hunger – for this man. How long had she yearned for such a moment? How many times had she awakened during the night needing him in a way that surpassed the simplicity of desire and surmounted the complexity of yearning? She'd trampled her feelings and insecurities so many times that their fight for dominance in her heart left her barren of any understanding of them. All she knew now was that she never wanted him to stop kissing her – never wanted to go back to those nights of self-doubt and confusion again.

One touch. Two. An endless storm. Lean in to devour – pull away to gasp for air. Not yet. Not enough. Lean back in. Crash back together. Obliterate anything that implies a separation between bodies. Too many clothes. Too many barriers between bare skin and his incredible, rough, hands. Tear them off. No care for their integrity. No room for modesty. She _wanted_ to be naked – _wanted _him to see her bare. When the last article of clothing fell away, Cassara imagined it to be the last piece that kept him from seeing all of her. Not just her skin. No. _All of her_. A desperation gripped her – the hope that he could see past shallow labels such as _mage_ and _leader_ to see _into her _soul. She was just a woman. Just Cassara. Just someone who wanted him beyond all scope of reason.

She watched his magnificent, green eyes widen – watched pupils dilate with raw desire as they devoured the sight of her body. She followed his gaze, saw her skin break out in goose bumps as the merciless teeth of the cold in the cavern nipped at her flesh. As she breathed, her breasts rose and fell, the nipples hard against the chill. Cassara knew she wasn't perfect, yet worrying about such things seemed shallow at this moment. Neither of them were without their own unique flaws – imperfections that defined them. It was these imperfections that she loved. The markings on his body, the various scars that puckered his otherwise flawless skin, the fury that was inseparable from him, the passion for vengeance that drove him – all of these things were dear to her. As she straddled Fenris's hips, feeling him harden with need for her, she drank in those imperfections, watching as he did the same. What did he see? Mage or woman?

"Cassara…" he whispered in that velvety way that made her shiver. He struggled to say more. Whatever protests or emotions that rampaged through him were locked behind years of self-restraint, years of self-discipline. This whirlwind – this maelstrom – raged behind those huge, green, eyes. It begged for release. Slowly, she placed a finger on his lips, running the edge of her nail along the pliant skin. "Cassara, are you certain about this? I…" A shake of her head erased all need for words, doubts, and hesitations – for anything except _feeling_.

Hawke reached down, gripped his wrists, and guided his hands to her hips. They took their time exploring each other, trying to memorize every curve, every mark. Wherever her fingers brushed against his markings, they lit up a ghostly blue as though responding to the magic in her blood. She gauged his reaction, fearing that her touch caused him pain. He gasped and closed his eyes, but she when she began to pull away, he caught her wrist in his hand and guided her back towards him. Relieved, she smiled and finished divesting him of his own clothes. When he lay completely naked beneath her, she felt her cheeks flush.

Beautiful. Incredible. His armor always hinted at the shape of his body, but she couldn't have guessed how magnificent it was until now. Everywhere she touched rippled with muscle honed from years of battle. Not too much. Just enough. His thin, elven, frame looked deceptively fragile. In truth, her earlier metaphor of his physique had been on target. He resembled a leopard – sleek, tight, controlled, deadly. Overwhelmed with a rush of desire, she leaned down and trailed kisses against his abdomen, marveling at how hot the lyrium tattoos felt against her mouth. Or was it his skin? She couldn't tell. Down and down, farther and farther she drifted until –

"Wait, Cassara…" She looked up, finding his eyes watching her. Instinct took over. She'd never done anything like this before with anyone – had never imagined that she would ever want to. Perhaps that is why she had no words – no reassurances to give him. All she could do was what instinct dictated – what the raw, primal, rhythm that desire carved into her body guided her to do. Lips exerted sweet pressure, fingers molded heated flesh, eyes fought to express the soul's ecstasy. His voice was just as beautiful as the rest of him - so arousing when laced with pleasure that she thought she might climax just from hearing it. She brought him to the peak, but just when she thought that he would fall, he pulled her up for a fiery kiss. As they embraced, Cassara pressed her forehead against Fenris's, feeling the heat radiating from him and basking in the knowledge that his rationale was just as lost as hers. Green irises met blue. Silver hair met jet black.

"Say _my _name," he commanded, his voice lower than she'd ever heard it. He drew her lower lip into his mouth, nipping it, capturing the whimper that followed. "Say it with these lips."

"Fenris," she whispered and bucked her hips against his, feeling him grow even harder. The aggressive motion encouraged him. His hands roamed upwards, cupping her breasts, teasing her nipples, drawing a long, ragged, groan of agony from her mouth then capturing it with his lips.

"Again."

"Fenris…" she breathed when his fingers found a particularly sweet spot. "Fenris…" The rocking began with similar motions – small but aggressive. At first, all Cassara wanted to do was encourage him, to arouse him more. But soon, even that logic disappeared into waves of pleasure as his tongue and lips sought out her breasts. He timed the strokes of his tongue to the thrust of his hips. She cried out as he gently bit down then immediately gasped as he rocked against her and slid the full length of his member against the hypersensitive point at the apex of her thighs. Just as she recovered, he did it again – harder. The sound of his tongue lapping against her skin blended together with the sound of her voice. Her vision blurred, a haze of need falling over her like a gossamer curtain. At first, she basked in the pleasure – then, she gritted her teeth as pleasure turned into something else. She recognized the feeling - an itch that demanded to be scratched, an ache that begged to be soothed, a yearning for him and…

"…more…please…" she pleaded, biting her lip and digging her nails into his shoulders. Once again, blue met green. She half expected him to ask her if she was certain about this, to express his doubt. Not so. Cassara saw his jaw clench a split second before a rending pain tore through her center. She gasped, her breath catching in surprise. Afraid that he would stop if he knew that he was hurting her, she tilted back her head and tightened her arms around him, burying his face against her chest. He groaned and stopped. His entire body shuddered.

One moment. Two. With each second that passed, she grew used to him until the pain faded into bliss. Shivering and shaking with emotion and sensation, Cassara looked down. Fenris's arms reached up and wrapped around her, his face hidden against her chest. What was he feeling? She wanted to know. She wanted no more secrets between them. Not now. Not when he was buried so deep inside of her – not when she finally felt that she'd filled the emptiness in her heart. _I love you. I love you. I love you. _Her lips parted, the words she'd wanted to say for so long on the verge of flight, when he moved again. Slow at first, then faster.

In a single movement, he flipped them over. The pressure between them shifted, intensifying. She barely stopped herself from biting into his shoulder, so overwhelming was the sensation. A bright light filled her vision – Fenris's markings were glowing. All of them at once. Not blue as they did in battle, but a warm green that reminded her of his eyes. The thought splintered when he pushed even deeper into her, driving her mind even farther into a fog. A rush of energy swirled in her core, reminding her of the sensation she experienced when she first touched a pure lyrium vein without knowing what it was. Back then, instead of pulling power from it, she'd fed it mana instead. Her lungs burned with fire; something broke through her defenses and began to rip away mana in huge quantities. Dizziness and disorientation mixed with indescribable pleasure. Each of Fenris's motions took her higher and higher until she thought that she was surely flying. Nothing mattered outside the places where they touched, where they merged, where they became one.

More. Not enough. She struggled against him, willing him to thrust harder, to be rougher, to make her utterly and completely his. If he understood, he gave no sign. Silver bangs fell forward to hide his face, barring her from seeing his expression. She tried to call out to him, but he abruptly sealed her lips with his own. Over and over again, they came together and pulled away until the building pressure finally exploded between them. Cassara felt Fenris's release fill her a split second before her own climax exploded in a charge of pure electricity. Energy surrounded her, some of the light taking the shape of bright spheres and some resembling ice blue steam that wafted from her skin. She tried to pull it back but found she had no strength to do so. As Fenris collapsed against her, she looked around. _What are those lights? _She only understood when she reached up and touched one. _Mana. Raw mana._

Fenris's breathing came in short, rough, bursts as his eyes met her own. Terror nearly ripped her from her cocoon of euphoria, for she feared that he would see her magic and remember awful things – painful things, horrible things - things that would surely cause him to turn away from her once more. He looked around, took in the strange phenomena. But, instead of disgust, she saw nothing but gentleness in his eyes. In the azure glow of her mana, his features looked even more chiseled and exotic. He reached forward and brushed his fingers against her cheek, moving aside damp tendrils of black hair.

"What is it, Fenris?" she asked, her voice barely audible. "Is everything alright?" She cupped the hand that rested against her face.

"You are beautiful," he answered without a hint of reservation. She blushed, suddenly lost for words.

"I…that is…I'm sorry about…my magic…" Cassara rambled. He looked confused. She rushed to explain. "I don't know why it's behaving like this. I'm sure it's ugly," she concluded, saddened. He forced her to look back at him when she would have turned aside.

"Right now, your eyes are silver, not blue. The energy around you gives your white skin a blue shine – like a pearl. I can still feel the waves of power coming off of you – waves caused by pleasure that _I_ gave you." A crooked, somewhat smug, smile played against his lips, making heart skip a beat. "Your lips are swollen from my kisses, your cheeks are flushed. A faint glow surrounds you. It is as though I've reached into the sky and pulled a star into my arms." Cassara stopped breathing, afraid that all of this was some sort of cruel dream – that any movement would tug her back into wakefulness and reality. She could never have imagined that she would hear Fenris say such things.

"Fenris…"

"You are beautiful, Cassara," he repeated, "especially now." The statement meant many things. Though she saw that he was absolutely sincere in what he said, she still sensed that they would have many obstacles to overcome between her magic and his fear and hatred of it. For the moment, however, she only wanted to be certain of one thing –

"Then…you do not regret this?"

Fenris's eyes softened and he pressed a kiss against her damp forehead. "I only regret that whatever happened has drained you so," he replied. "I have hurt you once again without meaning to."

"You didn't hurt me. This, what we did, it was amazing, Fenris. Please don't regret it."

"I do not," he assured. "Regret is poison. Once before, I told you this."

"You did?" she asked, leaning into his touch, feeling a languid sleepiness fighting to overcome her senses.

"You were asleep, so I doubt you remember."

"I'll remember this time," she promised then felt herself flushing again. "So...you enjoyed it, too?"

"It was better than anything I could have dreamed," he declared, that rare smile still tugging at his mouth. Cassara sighed in contentment, struggling to stay awake. Noticing this, Fenris pulled back and frowned, insisting that she get dressed before she caught a chill. In the end, he had to help her back into her clothes for she barely had the energy to pull on her leggings, let alone fasten any buttons or ties on her armor. By the time both of them were fully clothed, all signs of mana had faded from the air, leaving the camp fire as the single light source around them. Exhausted, Cassara pressed against Fenris's firm body where he leaned against a cavern wall.

"You say regret is poison," she began, "yet you feel it yourself, don't you? About your past? About Denarius?"

It took him a long time to reply, and when he finally did his voice was gruff with emotion. "It is a poison that I will not be rid of until he is dead."

"Are you sure?" she frowned. "Are you sure it will end so simply?"

"I've asked myself that a thousand times, but no answer is forthcoming."

"What about what Hadriana said…about your sister? Have you considered trying to find her?" Cassara flinched, expecting him to get angry at her for prying. He surprised her once again, however, by answering.

"Yes, I have." Several minutes passed in silence. Cassara began to wonder if she'd triggered unpleasant memories when – "Would you be angry if I told you that I already found her? That she's in the city right now as we speak?" This information jolted Hawke into awareness. She pushed off his chest and sought out his eyes.

"What? Are you serious?" she demanded. Instead of replying, he reached into his belt pouch and pulled out what looked like a torn up piece of paper. Wordlessly, he handed it to her. She scooted closer to the fire and unwrapped it, finding a letter written in neat handwriting.

_Brother,_

_I was so happy to hear that you wanted to meet me. This is my first time in the city, so I chose a location for us to meet that I'm sure you will know. A local merchant told me about a tavern called "The Hanged Man". What an odd name for a tavern. I will be there every day for the next two weeks. After that, if you haven't come, I will accept that you changed your mind and cannot risk meeting me. I know things haven't been easy for you. Rumors spread in this place quicker than the Magister's palaces in Minrathous. Please, brother, come find me. I've been waiting to see you for so long and almost thought it was a dream when I received your letters._

_Love, __Varania_

Cassara tried to imagine what it must have been like for Fenris to read this. Had he been happy? Had he been anxious? Knowing him, he suspected a trap. _And he is right to do so - _Hawke thought darkly. Nearly a year had passed since their last reading lesson together. When they'd met, Fenris hadn't been able to read at all. It had taken Hawke countless sleepless nights and long evenings to help him pick up a skill that many free men took for granted. As a slave, literacy wasn't a luxury he could afford. Everyone who knew of his enslavement should have been aware of this. Yet...

"I know you are angry that I kept this from you – "

"I'm not angry," she returned smoothly, reading the letter once more.

"You are scowling."

"I do not scowl," she snapped, immediately regretting it when she saw how hurt he looked. "I'm sorry. I _am_ angry, but not for the reasons you believe." She moved to sit next to him, inwardly enjoying the liberty of being so close to him without needing any explanation. "It's just…how would your sister have known that you would be able to read this letter when she sent it?"

"I wrote to her during my search and invited her here." Just like that, he blew away all suspicion. Or should have. Something still wasn't right.

"So this wasn't the first correspondence between you two?"

"No." Something nagged at her – a dark foreboding that Hawke couldn't place.

"How long ago was this written?"

"I received it shortly after you were wounded with the Arishok."

"Then we don't have much time before the two weeks are up." Cassara raked a hand through her hair. She would have been more than happy to fall asleep in Fenris's arms and forget the troubles of reality for a short time. Unfortunately, too much was at stake. There were many things she didn't know or understand about the situation, including the odd voice of her instinct that whispered of a connection between Varania, the Tome of Koslun, and the Qunari.

"Tell me everything, Fenris."


End file.
